Roar

Always young at heart and old in soul never at ease in the linked up, stuck-up clichés of childhood or the bizarre unfriendly world of adulthood, I always roared…at five my boyfriend Dave was four. He was a good kisser too. Just about the only kisses I got [except from mom] till I was sixteen, at which point a charming fifteen year old and Irishman [black Irish rosy red cheeked dancing black eyes and a curl which feel into them] became my beau and to my junior prom as a sophomore he went, returned the favor, he did, the next year. I went as a senior to his Junior prom, hair all done up like Olive Oil. “God it looked awful!” My Senior prom, he was my Napoleon, again and I in empire white his Josephine [no we weren’t crowned King and Queen]. College saw me behind the eight ball again With all my lovely new friends “hookers?” [‘Well, Ma said!!! If you did that you were…] Since I wouldn’t I had a slew of BOY friends [Sometimes three would drop in on the same night ahhhhhh the power of abstinence!] Sophmore year I found true love, it almost killed me. And yes Adonis was a freshman, an Italian dream with a wrestlers Greco-roman body…lasted three years. And, in walked the next Italian lovers [three years younger] A few years latter we were married. Thirty years passed Closeted cloistered years, over protected, smothered years and with freedom came new loves, all younger than me.