“Is it ok if I kiss you?” Jimmy asked,
fidgeting and looking down at his feet.
“Sure.” finding him sweet and endearing.
A nice change from the bull rush of her last encounter.
His lips were surprisingly soft,
hers tasted faintly of pomegranates and Coca Cola.
“You’re a good kisser.” , a smile crept into his eyes.
Jimmy’s teacher told the class to write about what their parents smelled like.
He hadn’t seen his father in a dog’s age.
Remembered his grandfather reeked of pipe smoke and Aqua Velva.
He walked up to his mother and gave her a hug.
“What’s that for?”
“You looked like you needed it.” he inhaled.
Helped ourselves to the trees in the orchard.
Macintosh, red, crisp and sweet, with the perfect tart bite.
Made bags from our shirts and ate as many as we could.
Mother wouldn’t let us go back there.
Rumor was the farmer had put salt in his shotgun.
And he was looking for young apple thieves.
Sometimes you get into mischief just for fun and it can turn dangerous. Salt buckshot won’t kill you, but it hurts like hell.
“Some people are destined to never find love.” he said at age 14.
Soon he met a young lady who wore flower printed dresses.
Together they drank cheap wine behind the bleachers and ran around the football field like maniacs.
“I really need to stop smoking” , he said, as she threw her arms around him.
Bless Jimmy’s heart. He really is a sweet kid. Wondering about the parents, of course. Some kids just get started early. The youth of today ain’t what it youth to be.