I know I shouldn’t have, but let’s face it—you started it. You leaned down to kiss me and you have the kind of lips I find impossible to resist. Fat lips, bee-stung lips, lips like a punch in the face. A mouth like a discarded mattress on the pavement in the 7 a.m. walk home and, though that mattress is probably filthy, it’s also impossible to resist. So I flung myself on it and I bounced upon your springs.