The Right Questions

They very next time I sit with you for two hours and some minutes at the top of a stairwell, crying alcoholic tears as you talk about your mother, you will find yourself kissed.  

Like the skin of a lady by the summertime sun.

Or my brother by my mother after every basketball game.  

Yes, the very next time, I will put my hand on your shoulder and kiss you with my eyes closed.

And you

will kiss

me back.

Because that's how I want it.