2009.05.03
the nine kisses

i once met a man not of my single dream
i hated the hair, i loathed the skin
he tried to impress, he tried to scheme
to have nine kisses, each in different scene

whoever stops first will be the loser
whoever falls in love will be the loser
whoever completes without falling
will be declared as the one winning

i accepted the challenge with a kiss
the kind that binds my tongue with his
it was five minutes in the back seat
of an old Volkswagen that's dimly lit

i bumped into him a month later
in a seedy bar called Never After
i ordered tequila to the bartender
and made the man's lips salty all over

the third one came after high school graduation
i was in my uniform, in the mood of a celebration
he spotted me with my peers in a parking lot
he came to me, his tongue went down my throat

we exchanged numbers merely because
coincidental meetings were too exhausting
he arranged for me to come to his house
we had wine, and the fourth tongue wrestling

he asked what i wanted to be beside a street whore
i said anything that can take me out of this door
out of this place, to the world i want to explore
he supported my idea, and kissed me once more

he gave his baby a final hug, and he left his wife
i heard he did it to embrace his own life
the next christmas he gave me another kiss
"i'm going for a long while to paris."

we didn't write, we didn't keep in touch
we thought we're not the kinds that do as such
eight seasons later he found me online for fun
he's back in town, and we had the seventh round

by the time we had our eight one
it was a supper in a Thai restaurant
i was twenty two, and he was thirty five
i've broken ten hearts, and he's divorced one wife

we grew tired of the game and so we decided
to had the ninth kiss right away, to get it done
we stared at each other, and we concluded
we were both winners, and we've had our fun

we parted with no trace, with no heart
he moved to another town, to another start
we parted with no history to keep
i moved on with the life that's not so deep

i've tried finding it down under, i've tried europe
i've pissed the liberty, and i've pissed the pope
i've met the sphinx, i've climbed the Angkor
i've been to the desert, and i've been to more

i started writing, putting my name on the paper
i was thirty when my first book hit the bookstore
i was a small sensation, not some hot shot rapper
but to some forty-somethings, i wasn't a bore

old friends, old aunties, and old folks came
to celebrate this thing they called fame
new boys, new men, and but what a shame!
i realized i was hoping for an old flame

"i like your pictures, i like your stories,
i like your poems, i like your sketches.
i've been holding this email for many worries.
i'm afraid i'm just a name among many faces.

i write this with no agenda, no expectation
i write this merely to make some clarification
that in our game i had actually been down,
and i had been a loser since our fifth round."

i packed my stuff, and gone rushing
i broke the traffic that's maddening
i found the seat, took one hour flying
and followed my trip with one hour driving

to a house that's just tiny but enough
where i knocked the wooden door, and see
the man that's not of my single dream once again
i said, hey, it's not the time to get tough
i've come from all around the world to say this only
i've lost the game too since i don't know when

Posted at 02:05 by VE HANDOJO

 

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Maxmillian Hartandi
1974-2000.
The fondest memory I forever cherish.



 
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