K is for Kisses, the giant ones that cover his body all at once as he feels them not only on his face, but also through the squeezing of my fingers as they close around him just a little bit tighter. I know that if I don’t hold on to him just that much more, the mist of my breath might dampen him, and he might slip from my hold, and I can’t have that.
Kisses that are wall-sized to him, that make him invariably remember how it felt when he was taller than me, before I shrank him, when even then my lips were fuller than his, and made him feel surrounded. Now he really is, and when he kisses back, his lips only cover a minuscule section of plush, velvety skin … so I tell him to continue until he’s done with every inch, every foot, every yard, and on those days I’m feeling extra tall, every mile of my lips.
Erasure – I Love Saturday