It’s hard to imagine almost three months of unencumbered fun. My Grandmère says it’s my first summer as an “adult.” Is it funny that I don’t yet see myself as an adult?

Her “frosh-end” gift to me is a summer of anything I want (chaperoned, of course, to counterbalance the nefarious strategic significance of our femaleness) with her secretarial minions coordinating tickets, booking travel, airfare and hotels. ***, we have SO much planned.

There’ll be travel, plisse bikini-covers, gas-station sunglasses, marathon-beach-walks, bright-dense-tangerine sunsets, Yamazaki flavored snow-cones, moonlight swangin, ***-positivity and righteous gratitude to my Grandmère for all this.

And there won’t be any deterministic nonlinear systems analysis or multicellular biology quizzes.

Leong isn’t going back to Macau (China) over summer break so I’m stealing her. She’s spending her entire summer with me. In June, my parents are off, for the rest of the summer, to Poland with “Doctors without borders,” so we become untethered. Of course, all of our plans are covid or WWIII dependent and thus subject to cancellation without prior notice.

In May, I’m going to show Leong life in America, well, Georgia anyway. I’ll introduce her to my old high school crew, show her life on the lake, and teach her how to play frisbee golf and of course, how to waterski. We’re going to Braves games, to see Bonnie Raitt, Barenaked Ladies, and Indigo Girls concerts - and that’s just May.

In June, when my folks leave for Poland, Lisa, Anna, and Sunny will join us for the rest of the summer. First, we’re off to Dublin, Ireland for a few days where we’ll see Duran Duran in concert. Then we’ll go to London and shop for day three of the Royal Ascot.

Day three, at Ascot, is “Ladies Day,” when they parade those hats “My Fair Lady” made famous. We’ll table in the Windsor Enclosure (the “cheap seats”) where you don’t have to wear a silly hat (Americans don’t DO that, do we?) and the dress code is slightly more relaxed. Don’t fret though, the royal family will carriage right by us (an unobstructed 30 feet away) at 2PM sharp and we’ll enjoy champagne, strawberries and 5-star cuisine as horses run for their lives.

In January, all we could talk about were Florida beaches - but that’s not the situation now - the Florida atmosphere just seems too straight-white toxic. So we’re staying euro-side and will drop to Saint-Tropez until we go see Olivia Rodrigo, in Paris, on June 22nd.

As you can see, it’s a lot - and I can’t wait!
I hope you have big plans - make big plans - life's too short!

A for anybody; for any of you reading
into my heart. Try correct the spelling.

B for beginning; to any great story I’m
soon to tell. I hope to get your understanding.

C for seasons; oh for life’s many moments
comes with change. All reshaping.

D for decisions; mostly the critical ones
I make in a day. I do so after praying.

E for eating; especially when I’m in a such
a bad mood. Who doesn’t love eating?

F for effort; so fit to do even in the hardest
of all situations. Just keep pushing!

G for ginger; sweet and bitter at times
while trying to be polite. People are testing.

H for eish; a word I often say under a lot
of daily stress. The closest I am to swearing.

I for iron; cause life’s a pressing matter
of sorts. And close to *******.

J for Jane; I couldn’t think of a clever word
but I’d most likely crush on one. Just saying.

K for Kassan; I wouldn’t be one shying away
from loving himself. I’m quite impressing.

L for l-plate; cause I’m still learning this
race to truly love. There’s no point rushing.

M for meh; not much for me to really say
when it comes to it. Just keep it moving.

N for anything; that tickles your fancy
on happiness. Just keep on smiling.

O for oh; of all the many realizations in
this beautiful life. So mesmerising.

P for pea; not the liquid if your mind
leaks. It wasn’t a vegetable I was fond of eating.

Q for cue; maybe as the time for me to
leave, or stick in the line. Cameras always rolling.

R for are; being asked if you are ready or
you are not. Especially if it’s something daring.

S for especially; mostly in the times my points
are right. No need correcting.

T for tedious; I’m not a fan of repeating myself
too many times. Are you listening?

U for euphoria; I’ve never been the happiest
to use that word. But I’m still trying.

V for victorious; and of the vision to
see my successes far ahead. I keep on dreaming.

W for double you; seems a bit to easy
but I’d wish to have a double of you. Talking about loving.

X for excellent; as of when I write something
that fills me with joy. So exciting!

Y for why; for a curious mind hungry
for wisdom, and spirituality. I long for reasoning.

Z for zeal; the cause is done when it finally
meets it’s end. Finally granted the best finishing.

call humbug at your own peril,
dare
I don't know but I've been told,
streets in heaven been paved with gold.

'swat all the little kids that pullt the sleds's told.

Streets in heaven be needing this gold,
g'wan now, whistle while you work

it's a small small world after all.
We all become children then,
we all fall down,
that's the game. Okeh, wanna play?

the sun no longer shined
it became dark
the whole world was about to feel her wrath
as her screams could be heard
her fury could be felt

crackling sounds of lighting could be heard within
the dark cloud grew larger
one look and one could tell a storm was brewing
what had seemed like a sunny day turned dark and solemn
one push
one button
and over the edge, she goes

final stroll
the noise around him drowned her cries
he couldn't make a word of what she said
it seemed the storm had passed
closing his eyes to breathe
with a shatter, she broke
and all hell broke loose

park benches and arm stretches
hugs that feel like roses blooming
like footsies fooling
diehard chasers and fearless makers
high heels carving holes in the concrete floor
how is that possible?
holding hands on carved bridges made from men so long ago
touching each other’s shadows
behind telephone poles
dreaming mid-yawn
spinning in silk and satin spindled suits and dresses
red streaked eyes and tempered smiles and luxurious bodices
dancing on picnic looking tabletops
laughing our butts off
swinging from low hanging chandeliers
drinking from low budget wine glasses with koolaid since we’re minors
laying on each other’s chests and stroking each other’s hair fervently
trying to ***** dance in the sparkle of the sunlight
catching each other as we fall into trusting positions
pretending to be spies on top secret missions
grabbing my waist and falling onto the sparkly clean floor
becoming so mad yet never unsure
captivated by your lips and the way your skin twinkles a million different shades
and the way your voice calls my name in a billion languages,
some completely made up even
meticulously planning the way our shoes will leave marks in the dusty spots of the castle
sweating and eating brunch for dinner and not eating filet as an entree but as an appetizer
falling into your strong arms and losing control of what we are
seeing stars in the retinas of your eyes and mysteriously feeling dead-alive
like never before
nobody would have ever seen the manner in which you bat your eyelashes at me
and how the soft murmur of the breeze echoes across the coarse part of your cheek
and calls for me
safe and compact into a life that’s so magically intact
loving would never have been so tranquil if we had planned every single sought after moment
candidly slow dancing in the velvet summers day
being odd and obscure and strange in several colors and in multiple ways
touching the surface of your ocean wave body
sloshing so wonderfully
the rhythmic sound and all your capabilities
the rampant sweat clinging to your face, your throat,
looking at me
clowning around, tackling each other while grinning wildly
pillow fighting so hard the feathers exit and get caught on our wet tongues and shivering bodies,
and we collapse and watch hours and hours of tv while we sing karaoke from the 80s and pretend to be heartbroken like in the mvs
sitting on established thrones without the grueling jobs and committed work
losing sleep cause we stay up all night playing monopoly, but mostly it’s just you making fun of me cause i don’t participate i just grab my knees and admire the way you pick up the cards and still lose to me
and watch your rage fuel our fake arguments so we end up with full stomachs and happiness
watching theater from the highest balcony and grabbing my shaky hand and ridding of my anxiety
lovers spit, kissing cherry lips in the darkness of the abyss
kicking papers off of desk offices and messing around as if we are two tiny kids
having the kind of love that doesn’t get trapped beneath the sofa cushions that are crusty and ready to give away, but haven’t yet
the kind between gapped teeth, white as ivory, licking the dwindling flavor and savoring the last moments till it’s not sugary
taking life so seriously is absurd,
instead dance ballroom style on tabletops and try ***** dancing for once in your darned life
it ain’t gonna hurt

Hope swerving; bending my thoughts of life
in it's curving lane. A game of gain, that not everybody
wants to play. Escaping from the day, or days; looking
for change in these ancestral chains. These are the shackles, keeping me in constant battle. Wearing my weight as a satchel; I constantly have to dismantle myself; to reach the top of successes great mantle.

Life's a rattle; shaking you at the core. Follow it's lore; and
be careful not break all of it's many laws. You'll get so many scars, and sores. Opening moments, opening and closing doors;
as you constantly walk along on life's floors with your flaws.
Happy moments galore; but also the saddest ones creeping up
on the low.

You'll cry to the Lord of it all; His lifting spirit keeps you up
when the soul falls. He's a calming voice to all of His children
he calls. You'll be in awe, letting Him guide you to where you
need to go. A lot of what he does you can't ignore. "Be patient
child; there's a lot in store. Blessed are the poor."

There's no valley too deep, or it's mountains to tall. But life
has it's many walls; we all have to face. Cracking knuckles
a couple times, till that wall breaks. It's not a mistake, or a
place to misplace how far you've come from that starting place.
Whether from the maybe, or maybe not; of the choices you've made. We've each got our choices to make.

Love grips the crowd like a glove. Some that are fed sweet nothings, while others starve. All the lights of these stars; like rushing traffic in space. Rushing like cars in a chase. Love feels like a rush of a race; trying to keep those emotions going straight in it's lane. Wild hearts trying to keep tame, with their hormones often the one's to blame. "Such a shame."

It's the rush of love; but is it enough to love someone more than you can give? To live only on the feelings love gives; wanting all
that's out there, but refusing to give in. Giving it at your best;
but ask a lover about their ex. They'd say, "my current is the best from the rest." What can you expect; of a lover's treasured love buried deep down in their chest?

An itch at the neck; nerves telling me to double check at my deck. Just in case my next play has me going, "what the heck!"

What's my next calling card in this play game of gain? Seems I'm
back at it's start once again.

We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f.  I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times.

The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that.

Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate.

It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick.

Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow?

I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie

My adoptive father
(A week younger than I)
Who once dated my adoptive mother
(4 months younger than I)
Took us out to a posh joint in New Town
Where both of us took turns in being the clown
Taking the jester's, drama queen's crown
And taking down
Our Spanish waiter
Not sure if we did cater
More to them than they to us.
The racket, the drama, the jokes, the fuss,
My Instagram, and A.'s.
I remember his attempts to chase
Us, to gain to our level, to chat me up - make me leave trails
Of mirth tears, too, not just vinaigrette. "If the lady would give me her details...
Have my heart..."
(Serving four of a chicken on my plate)
"You broke my heart."
(Agreeing to and pulling off staging a "stage kiss" with my mate)
And they both admired my guns - He knew not to cross
Us. We're a dream team, my school-dad and I, no loss
For us, though we take Ls with smiles on our faces:
We'll keep on joking, laughing, irreverently, untying your laces,
Tripping up on our own but still making the trip;
And when the bill finally came, it was more than worth it, even the tip.

He stakes my arms to the wall, with binding hands.
I feel his desire through the strength of his grip, he
presses against me and I can’t move. I meet his eyes.
He smiles. I smile.

We kiss to form a scabrous, common bond.
I feel bound up in him and we remain, as such,
too long, too rude, too rough - and free for all to see.
It’s enough to draw curious eyes and jealous sighs.

We stop for air, to reestablish equillibria.
Our immediacy is too giddy - we’re too flushed
for words - the libidinous overtures of ***** birds.

It’s just a kiss, or two - too few - measure them by
pleasures blush - but now, we to the dance floor rush
to join the crush - YES, fun is enough.