Boys were giants –

giants walked down the Avenue,
giants pushed or shoved the
opposite sex.

Giants had hair of brown, black,
and blonde – but only one giant
had talent – he played the drums.

I went down street to the Five and
Dime with a dollar in my hand to
but a golden heart – to have it
engraved with my giant’s name.
I recall, my giant laughed.

He told me he liked his heart
while we played spin the bottle –
on the cold basement floor –

The Five and Dime were running
low on hearts with my giant’s name.

One winter afternoon when the snow
banks were piled twice my size
my friend showed me her heart
it had my giant’s name.

At the corner near the stop sign
In front of our home I planned on
what I would do – I shoved my
friend into the snow, stuffed her
gloves with snow – then ripped the
heart from her neck – told her,
“no one wears this giants name.”

As I stuffed her pink laced gloves
I continued to yell, “he’s mine, the
giants mine.”

One thing you never do – never
share your giant with a friend.

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Angie's Diary