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lips like sugar
by Monique Rardin Richardson
the race from the schoolyard to the classroom
in my well-worn canvas sneakers
seemed as far apart as the sweltering Sonoran Desert
to the cool San Francisco breeze
high-pitched screams drowned out faint giggles
and three-year-old girls bumped into one another
like a litter of puppies, tripping on their toes
in an attempt to escape the blond hair, blue-eyed
beast
derailed from safety, and detained behind the fence
I was captured, singlehandedly by
the kissing bandit
he pressed his purple popsicle-stained lips against mine,
wiped off his sticky, sweet, smiling mouth,
and headed back to the playground,
while I stood flushed
from my very first kiss
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