Kissing in New Zealand

is the same as kissing
anywhere else,
your tongue doesn’t
circle in a different direction
and you still oscillate
between not knowing
whether to open
or close your eyes,

but I needed to realize this myself,
couldn’t just read it
in some traveller’s guide,
so when my travelling companion
attended a Lord of the Rings tour,
I slipped into a sex club instead
which sounds raunchier
than its reality

for it was more about not wanting
to fly 14 hours
into another hemisphere
without kissing someone there
than any overt salacious need.
I guess I’m old-fashioned that way,
though I should be more specific
with my wishes

as the first guy I kissed
hailed from Saskatchewan—
which is akin to travelling
the entire globe
only to find yourself
eating at a McDonald’s.
Like good Canadians
we apologized
for being Canadian,
then moved on to find Kiwis.