(for Ryan Montgomery on his birthday)

You will likely not remember,
but it was one of your best lines
ever, especially clever

for your seven-year-old self,
who, after I cut your hair, at
your mother’s request,

and I asked only for a kiss
in return, blurted, “Can I give
you a penny instead?”

The laugh burst out of me
like a pop of pink bubble gum,
but you were absolutely serious.

And you should have been.
You shouldn’t have to kiss
ladies as old as your mother

or your teacher, in their 20s,
for goodness’ sake. And I
said, “Sure, a penny would

be fine,” prompting you to
hop off the tall stool, you
newly trimmed blonde boy,

going to hunt up a penny.
I think I accepted it, not
wanting to insult you,

but more than four decades
later, I owe you many pennies
because you and your brothers

later repaid me with cheek
smooches that I treasure still,
and a line that I repeat to everyone

whose hair I cut, should
they ask the price:
a penny or a kiss.

And sometimes, I get both.