You asked me if I knew how kite fish
kiss, and I said I didn’t
and you leaned forward,
slid your lips quickly over mine,
and then pulled your head up and away,
as if it had been picked up by a gust of wind.
It was a great pantomime
but you forgot the grass
and the string
and the child
and the running.
Each as much a part of kites
as the sun
and the flying
and the wind
and the slow tug of
weightlessness
in your hand.
