Return to Backward GlancesPresents From Jim Nineteen sixty-nine. The autumn fair was in Athens. I was sixteen. You had finished your senior year. You threw well aimed darts, and loaded my arms with cheap stuffed toys; soft treasures for my bed. Arms and objections occupied, I leaned tight while you held me from behind, whispering unfamiliar syllables into my warming ear. I remember your hands, and how I wanted the force of them firm around my breasts; fingertips exploring chilled hard nipples. Old enough to want, too young to recognize the scent you were leaving on my expectations. You stood silhouetted against carnival lights; Ferris wheel colors haloing your dark hair. I grabbed my instamatic; snapped a hunk of you as you left for California. And I am still here. Shirley Alexander © 2009
