Evolution of a Kiss

I'm not used to this much freedom,
So I wonder if this is what death is.
Is it liberation?
Is it recycling?
I breathe you in,
We breathe the dead in,
The dead give to the earth
From which
All life originally
Emerged.
So when we fish,
Do we go back to our roots,
Hunting our ancestors, and
In essence,
Our pre-evolutioary selves?

She got sick of hearing me talk,
Saying it was all gibberish.
I figured,
Whatever it took
For her lips to keep mine busy.