First kisses
Tayi Tibble is reminded of melting plastic and the feelings of the moments
The first kisses I remember are always the ones that remind me, surprisingly, of my old school friend Karishma, who would gift each girl in our little group a plastic lotus candle on our birthdays. When lit, it would bloom and sing and that’s what a good first kiss reminds me of, heat and thickness unfolding, the feeling of melting plastic.
However, it’s the moments before that affect me more, the small build-up of signs and details. This is what intoxicates me and stays with me long after — one of life’s great highs — inhaling all the smoke signals two bodies can give off. Like leaving the closing Latin bar, unconsciously hanging back for him, seeing him and enjoying him so tall and boyish coming down the stairs. Smiling at him with the best of me (cheeky, daring, sweet). His hooded eyes narrowing (and glowing green like a cat) reading exactly what was on my mind. A Chaka Khan song playing from the bar next door. I let myself go. A current of conspiracy, a rush of a river.
Or, at the height of summer, in the wet splash of Mish Mosh, students gone home for the summer, the club full of sloppy Christmas parties and crooked reindeer ears. I’m in a pink dress like a flower, brand new with fresh-cut tags. The DJ putting my record on, him downing the rest of his drink and following me on to the dancefloor. I’m surprised. I drape my hands around his neck. I feel his eyes, dark and upturned like a taniwha, settle seriously on my mouth.
In the hotel, overlooking the crushed city, while I crushed fun from my wallet with the room key. Come here, he said and I did. So simple. Even in the dark, eyes bluer than summer. Later, I would learn, this was a line he kept in his soft black suit pocket. Once he told a rock star this was the sexiest thing he had ever said to a woman, and the rock star immortalised it in a song. I should have rolled my eyes, being fed a line like that, but I only felt proud of him. I always do, always will.
Tayi Tibble (Ngati Porou, Te Whanau-aApanui) is an award-winning poet, whose second book, Rangikura, was published in 2021.