Prince Kissing

I did not resist and bought also the hard copy of Tom Robbins' Wild Ducks Flying Backward. I can now go to bed with a goodnight story every time the moon rises on my Future.

Last night story was an ode to the Art of Kissing.

"Kissing is our greatest invention. On the list of great inventions, it ranks higher than the Thermos bottle and the Airstream Trailer; higher, even, than room service, possibly because the main reason room service was created was so that people could stay in bed and kiss without going hungry."

So writes the most dangerous and playful writer alive, and I couldn't agree more. Although a gleaming Airstream makes me dream of open roads and camping trips to Deadhead gatherings, and room-service is my personal idea of vacation-heaven, kissing is way-WAY!-better than any other western civilized invention.

Last night in my bed, Tom Robbins sprang out of the just uncorked bottle of champagne as the genie of the lamp, affirming himself as the very evolved personification of a species of manhood that I call:

THE KISSING PRINCE, alas the only kind of man I can date, alas a race much more evolved than the boring and absurd to me archetype of Prince Charming.

Now, to be perfectly clear and honest, I never dated Tom Robbins since I happened to meet him when he was already joint in soul-and-flesh to my highly revered friend Alexa-The-Taromancer. I will also admit to Tom only kissing my hand-as poetic and charming as only he can be-in the Malpensa Airport of Milan, Italy, at our first meeting.

A few more kisses followed down the road and over the years but they were all, indeed and-sigh!-, very platonic.

But here again I find myself in awe at Tom's choice of words to express what has always been on my mind:

"The best kisses, though, are those between lovers, because those are the consequential ones, the risky ones, the transformative ones, the ones that call the nymphs and satyrs back to life, the many-layered kisses that we dive into as into a fairy-tale frog pond of the murky gene pool of our origins."

Only lovers kisses are the real reckless ones, I will add. That's why I indulge and dive into the art of kissing with the greatest hedonistic pleasure.

A man, to get my attention, got to be a good kisser. Actually, not just good but a fabulous kisser since I am spoiled like an orange coming from the European lands of romantic Latin Lovers and great kissers (let's say it, there is some truth to it, generally speaking French and Italians do it better.)

"Beware the man who considers kissing as nothing more than a duty," warns us all The Most Dangerous Writer Alive, "a sop to the "weaker" sex, an annoyingly necessary component of foreplay. That man has penis plaque in his arteries and will collapse under the weight of intimacy. Send him off to the golf course while those of us who are more evolved celebrate the unique graces of the kiss: no other flesh like lip flesh! No meat like mouth meat! The musical clink of tooth against tooth! The wonderful curiosity of tongues!"

Tom's wit-sweet eroticism makes me jump and clap my hands like a little girl in a candy shop, makes me sing to The Kissing Prince.

And, as always, I worship his skillful, careful and loving caress of each word chosen to express what I'd have much more roughly and dryly resumed as:

ONLY A GOOD KISSER CAN TURN ME ON.

Comments

[debby]

Kissing is one of the most thrilling acts you can share with your romantic partner. Although some say that a kiss is just a kiss(they have the right to believe anything they want ot believe), I still think that a kiss should have meaning, or else it wouldn't be something worth remembering.