April The Eight
You can hear it. The dogs are barking a bit louder, and the birds are letting their songs dangle in the air for a few minutes more. The canopy of the sky is opening, welcoming us winter-beaten Canadians into another era of golden splendour. Snow is nearly all melted and creeks are rushing forward.
We get some time to take account for our feelings and to really evaluate love beyond any poetic ramblings.
We can see it and touch it.
I was once kissed on the neck by a girl named April when I was in grade school. I don't remember what grade it was (probably three or four), but I just remember the sensation when it happened. A bunch of us were playing tag on the play structure out back of Leslie Park Public School. There were jokes about cooties going around, and the boys were asserting their young male stupidity. And for a second, I was sort of almost tackled by April on the ground and kissed on my neck in a 'fuck you cooties' sort of way. A fraction of a second later, she was gone and playing again with the group of people. I remember bringing it up later, and she denied that it ever happened.
Good times.
And now, another April is my muse - the one in our calendar. Glow on.
