Galocher

The pepper-hint in the arugula.
The vinegar pinch
in the homemade dressing.
The sweet potato
with its puck of butter
lighting up our lips.
Dinner is the only time
when what’s going on
in your mouth is also
going on in my mouth.
It’s dinner and it’s kissing.
Kissing as the French do.
But the French don’t call it
“French kissing.” Until recently,
there was no word for it in Paris.
Now they call it “galocher,”
which is a play on the phrase
for ice skates. The tongues
like paired figure skaters
gliding into a layback spin.
The cherry-flip and loop.
The synchronous triple axle.
I like, very much, this performance
of being your partner.