The other day I saw a woman I had written about in my poem The Game. When we were teens she and a boy tried to kiss me in my livingroom. We passed a few words asking about family. She asked if I was still at the last place she knew I lived. She asked if I was married - yet. I don't even remember if I answered the married yet question and if I did it was a quick response and on to something else. Why do people from my past keep asking me if I am married - yet? HA! I think she has children. I've heard a rumor about her (wink) but I'm not interested enough to care.The boy in the playhouse, we were less than ten years old, had honey brown skin and was pretty to me but now I would say he was handsome. I wanted a kiss not so much from him but just to know what a kiss felt like from a pretty person. His sister was pretty too but I knew I would never get near enough to her for a kiss. (wink)
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