At dinner you promised them to me.
Our favorite waitress cried
When I showed her the ring.
She must have known,
they all must have known,
and I tried my best not to guess
what you we’re up to.

100 kissed, I covered your face
and neck and hands with them
over desert roses, spindly
and pale, waiting for the rain
that comes only once in a lifetime.

100 mouthfuls of sorrow swallowed
from someone else’s heartbreak,
my heart now filled with sweet cream
and bright red cherries.

100 years lived in 100 seconds,
each one I count and taste and savor
while our lips touch 100 times more.