The Party

I can remember that there was a baby 
who wouldn’t let me leave without 
kissing her on the lips,
how she pulled my face to hers,
how I turned to let her kiss one cheek
and then the other, but how she pulled me
closer and wasn’t satisfied until she pressed
her slobbery, open lips to mine
while everyone watched and her parents said
she’s never acted that way with a stranger
and I thought what a lucky stranger am I

or I can remember that the invitation
was a compilation
of couples, mine being the only one
that spelled out my first and last name
and wasn’t a “the” smiths or millers or zanes or zoos
and how I drove away in the black midnight air,
alone, feeling sad for not having that, an other half,
a story like the people who were there

whichever narrative I repeat will be the way 
I remember that day
both are true but 
a kiss is sweeter than a tear
so that is what I choose