I can still remember it vividly like a baby remembers the face browsing the breast it suckles
The memories are not splitting at all unlike weathering rocks
These memories like grains of rice of rocky consistency has evaded every sickle
The fact that its flashback has been so vivid is no joke
The magma for the formation of this rock spoiled many years around our lengthy cubicle at high school
Back then we gathered like clouds for our night preps, boys and girls
And we dispersed like weeds with only two courses,the male and female cubicle
Each cubicle being as lengthy as the other
But the few hours away from our cubicles was enough to create a lot of crevices for the cold magma
Whenever clouds gather a rumbling occurs,a mixing, or a chemistry
Each molecule of this cloud during this rumble collides with an opposite molecule
And each individual collision come together to form a crevice when we disperse to our cubicle
So we gather together to share the spoils of our individual collisions each night, and that creates the crevice
So on that cold night we dispersed like weeds to our cubicles
Then we gathered to share the spoils of our individual collisions
One story collapsed on the other,until the force of one cracked my crevice ‘The Story of Locking of The Lips’
It was so sensual that it warmed up my cold magma,and a huge crevice began to form unknowingly
So when everyone finally picked there spot in our lengthy cubicle,and I was left alone with my cracked crevice
My mind gradually sank in the reversible abyss of death
And in this abyss my warm magma split
There I saw this beautiful face I have always lusted to
I felt that she was lusting to me too
I saw that supple red lips that could only mimick mine to an extent
Then those two lips locked in an ecstasy that my compatriots’ story can only envision
Intensity called unto intensity,and the thought in my mind could only be likened to that of Peter at Mount Tabor
The only difference was this time I wanted only two boots
But soon the bell went,that bell that called us to gather like clouds again
And it was like the voice of the Father dashing Peter’s dreams
I found myself back,alone,with a cracked crevice, and a lukewarm magma
This magma has spilled around, and has formed the rocky grains of rice that I now share with you as ‘My First Kiss’.
About the Author
