Abigale Louise LeCavalier

Kisses Hello

“It’s nice to meet you!”

I haven’t heard that in a while,
shaking hands
in public places.

A kiss?
Maybe two.

Stubble feels like sandpaper
ripped across the lips,
it’s better to aim for the mouth,
unless rude.

A feather floats into my purse,
like magic,
like me;
not “magical”
but magic just the same.

And I can float on air
without wings,
it only takes a thought
or a “nice weather we’re having!”
from a passer by.

No kisses hello for them,
just a courteous nod.

And the conversation continues
mirrored in the eyes
of, what’s his face.

I think his name was Milford.

And now I have enough feathers
to fill a pillow,

“it’s nice to meet you too!”
I say,
with a little blood in my mouth.

{Poem by Abigale Louise LeCavalier}