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2002-06-03 || 7:42 p.m. || you are june. you look pretty. || i cannot believe it is june 3. june = tron watched in the multipurpose room, grades 2 through 4 (remember, bradley?) (oh wait. i need to tell the story about bradley. bradley = archnemesis, grades 1 through 6. bradley = smartest boy at ada e clegg. bradley = members only jacket and dragons drawn in pencil. bradley = math and science and the originator of my treacherous nickname, 'herpe-of-the-son.' ((sounds like my unhandy unglamorous real life last name. see. i used to get cold sores. brought on by sun. i am not one of the lucky ones, genetically speaking.)) bradley = competitor. the rival. winner of the sought-after ada e golden apple. bradley found me. a couple months ago. and now we are friends. and he still has blonde hair. and he still stands in the same exact way, that third grade way, hands stuffed in pockets and shoulders hunched, slightly. and now he is magnificent artist who thankfully doesn't call me names or throw pinecones at me. thank you, bradley.) but. june. = . pine needles heaped like islands on cul de sac asphalt. the timid beginnings of pool parties. reading under sheets with flashlights. painted toenails. falling asleep with 10 minutes to go of sunlight. mummy braiding our hair before bedtime for wavy hair the next day. home perms burning our scalps while eating popsicles in the backyard. cat hairstacks. hibiscus and peaches. dancing on the grass to music in my head. fishing on weekends. dad 'getting some color' on a lounge chair after work. sitting in the hot tub with kelly and da to play the 'ask dad any question about anything' game. making up stories about constellations. heat waves. fans made of fold forward fold backward newspaper. june june. you smell like a red flower. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |