(no subject)
tonite with a half smoked cigarette making circles in ash and tobacco like native american sand paintings, i had intense memories of being small when the babysitter's son slapped me (he was small too, my age, maybe four or five)
deheart. that was his surname.
when i told his mother through sobs what he had done, that it was my turn on the slide, that he was being unfair, she sided with him. i was to sit inside for the rest of the day, while he gloated, with the arrogance of favoritism, and continued to get his way.
i wonder if he still has the hot tempered arrogance which killed my pride that day? i wonder if he has catcalled to me on the street before, or is that just some other bastard whose mother never taught him respect?
deheart. that was his surname.
when i told his mother through sobs what he had done, that it was my turn on the slide, that he was being unfair, she sided with him. i was to sit inside for the rest of the day, while he gloated, with the arrogance of favoritism, and continued to get his way.
i wonder if he still has the hot tempered arrogance which killed my pride that day? i wonder if he has catcalled to me on the street before, or is that just some other bastard whose mother never taught him respect?