| For Love and Root-Beer |
| Yellow pages are funny; such a big book for such a small part of the story. There are reasons to forget. There was a barber-shop: Snip-its of hair falling to the ground; The old men yelled at the game. Papers strewn on the table as disorderly as New York City. I would color the sports page and the old men would curse -- �Why the hell don�t you color the FRONT page?� My father laughed, the old men laughed, they took away the sports page; I colored, snip-its of hair. I never really developed a taste for root-beer; I would have liked to. A girl lived up the street. She had eyes that came out like a prize-fighter, and a take-no-prisoners smile. She smiles a lot, she used to cry a lot, but now she smiles more. It reminds me of a guy I once knew -- he smiled a lot. He was a Marine. I don�t think Marines usually smile a lot, do they? But they don�t take prisoners. Anyhow, once she kissed me, (the girl that is) right on the lips. It was the first time I�d been kissed, right on the lips. It made my head fizz, not too much, but just enough. Like root-beer; I guess, I don�t really know -- I never developed a taste for it, but I would have liked to. Snip-its of hair. Yellow pages are funny, like memories, such a small part of the story. There are reasons to forget -- I�m sure I�ll find one. Someday. |