the first time

it's not the first time,
though you clearly remember
firsts so well.
it's not about
the first kiss, or car,
or house,
or love, was it love?
it made you sick,
the butterflies, the wind
in and out of your sails
on a daily basis. so maybe
it was love.
okay. let's call it love
and move on.
but it's not about
the first time of anything.
no matter how stitched
it is into the fabric
of your memory
and life.
no, it's the next one,
or the one you're in now
that counts.