a recent googgle gave me this hit (that prompted me to find the old torned hard copy)...
and with that me shall pass yet another sunday in the cold confines of my prized pile of print-out papers...

We were pretty much all alone out there, and it was dark and cold and late. I kissed her again. But not on the forehead, and not lightly.
It lasted a long nice time. When we stopped kissing, she was still holding on to my sleeves.
'I don't like it,' she said.
'What?'
'The fact that I like it.'