southtown theater
Kristin Johnson

On the sidewalk under a white ribbon
wrapped marquee, sophomore lips
slobbered against mine.
Tongues touched right away and
when our ride showed up, we kept on,
feeding hunger I’d gone without too long.
His friend Stan’s mom drove us.
We’d doubled that night.
“Come up for air you two,” she said
spying us in the rearview mirror.
She was a cool mom.
We kissed one last time before
we stopped and laughed,
wiped saliva from our mouths.