Yes, we were sitting in a poem and in that poem
we were kissing. I do not know why.
I do not know which of us started the kissing.
That’s the only poem inside of which we’ve kissed and I wrote it.
I would like to kiss you more often in poems
but then I write poems and in them we are not kissing.
I write poems and you manage to not even be in them.
Only that once when we sat and kissed freely. I should
not be sad because there are many poems in the world
and at least there is one in which we are still sitting
and in which we are still kissing. That’s the nice thing about poems.
They are just words and they do not exist. But then they do.