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year ago, I've seen him with several different women regularly. There's
the shapely little one with the reddish brown hair, the perky blonde
with the round glasses, the voluptuous Puerto Rican and...and...and --
oh, yeah -- the short brunette with the round face and the enormous
tits. And now this Oriental bitch!
As we cross Christopher Street, I try to tell myself not to be
stupid about it, not be angry or jealous. I have no right to it. I am
12, look to be nine, just a gawky little Chink kid with no visible tits
and the sex appeal of a laundry bag. Besides, I tell myself, what would
I want from him, anyhow?
And as I crawl into bed, only my lonely fingers for lovers, I tell
myself the truth. I know what I want from him.
Everything.
*****
It's going to be another scorcher. Second Saturday in May, and
already the temperature is near 80 at ten o'clock in the morning. I'm
roller skating on the sidewalk across the street from his building. I've
overheard Grandmother telling Grandfather t
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