Boys Mystified Me, Although I Dreamed Vaguely

I've Noticed Dracula Was Often As Practical A Fellow As He Was A Nasty One.

It Was Good To Walk Into A Library Again; It Smelled Like Home.

It's A Shame For Women's History To Be All About Men--first Boys, Then Other Boys, Then Men Men Men. It Reminds Me Of The Way Our School History Textbooks Were All About Wars And Elections, One War After Another, With The Dull Periods Of Peace Skimmed Over Whenever They Occurred. (our Teachers Deplored This And Added Extra Units About Social History And Protest Movements, But That Was Still The Message Of The Books.)

I've Read There Is No Such Thing As A Single Tear, That Old Poetic Trope. And Perhaps There Isn't, Since Hers Was Simply A Companion To My Own.

My Guess Is That He Remembers Some Of Me, Some Of Us Together, And The Rest Rolled Off Him Like Topsoil In A Flash Flood.