My memories of that night are foggy with alcohol and sweat
and I can’t say which of us pressed our lips to the other’s first.
Dear straight girl: you could have played that one off.
It seemed only right when our dancing bodies were
pressed into each other’s too.
Next my back is pressed against a staircase,
with your arms on either side of me.
Dear straight girl: I couldn’t have left even if I wanted to,
but did I try to make an escape through your mouth
or did you try to pin me to the stairs between your lips?
You drag me to the boy I am dating, who has just arrived,
tap him on the shoulder, and kiss me, giggling all the while.
I gasp my laughter down your throat, hoping you will taste
the understanding on my breath.
Dear straight girl: I used to think that kissing girls for show
meant I did not enjoy it either,
thought I enjoyed the stars it placed in straight boys’ eyes,
while I ignored the rays of sunlight it placed in mine.
"Will it be weird because no one is around?"
We are on the lawn and you are headed home
to the safety of your boyfriend’s bed.
I do not remember if I asked you to kiss me or if you offered,
don’t know how we got from that point to your question.
Dear straight girl: the line between point A and point B
doesn’t look so straight to me.