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woke up with fingers crossed |
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in a boy's bed with your pants off |
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after polite declines of coffee & toast |
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walked home itching in last night's clothes |
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past the Phone Booth & the Beauty Bar |
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the broken windows of your neighbors' cars |
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through the backdoor to a message from Sis |
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asking who was your New Year's kiss |
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took the afternoon to piece it all |
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plus a half a dozen phone calls |
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crashed a party with Larissa & Chris |
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in pursuit of a New Year's kiss |
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not the way that you'd imagined it |
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on a balcony with champagne lips |
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but in a pantry against the pancake mix |
|
you had your New Year's kiss |
