"Open your hand, Mama."
"Why?" I say, pretending I don't know.
"Because I want to leave a kiss in your hand!"
"But why?" I ask again, playing dumb.
"So you can put my kiss in your pocket and save it for later."
Each and every one of my pockets, in every pair of pants and in every jacket, overflows with kisses that spill out every where.
The wind lifts them up and they swirl all around me like a petal storm.