Location, Location, Location

I could have kissed you under cherry blossoms,
pale petals drifting down like the trees
wanted to pretend they could be snowclouds.

I could have kissed you in the rain, drenched to
our bones and not even caring that the skies
opened up above us and tried to wash us out.

I could have kissed you in a clearing
in the most secluded woods,
with just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves
and a few voyeuristic finches peeping at us.

Instead, I kissed you in the parking lot of a Waffle House,
just shy of 2 a.m. in the middle of a hectic week,
with our waitress grinning at us from the other side of the window,
because, honestly, how could I not?

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published May 11, 2011