Cooties

Don't take anything for granted. Me? I miss cafeterias. I hurry home on Sundays so that I won't miss Ed Sullivan. I miss Ed Sullivan.

I'll never be welcome at the kids' table again. That's alright. Jamaica and Angel and I are all getting a little long in the tooth and they don't much care where they sit.

I miss Europe and Oklahoma and Texas and New York. I have to say, though, that I don't miss the airport.

Maybe I'm lucky that I never worried about any sexually transmitted disease. Oh, I mean I worried about them but not for any real reason. Most of my social life involves my head on the cartoon body of the guy with the action. Before the girls in class informed me of my shortcomings, before I was deemed socially awkward, there was really only cooties. Somehow I got through the sixth grade cootie-free.

Mostly I miss the ones I've loved, the ones who loved me. Some had two legs, some four.