Self Expression Magazine


By Myfilmproject09

 For those who don't know where I came from the wild west of of Canada, well, not really wild west. Mostly wheat fields rising up to the small town that I grew up to 12 years and settled across the river. The The Detroit River. Yeah, a small city across to Detroit with around in the millions. And I had relatives also. You'll see Dey/twa while my city was Windsor, a small city of factory workers. I went to a American college about twenty miles from Canada, crossing the river two ways, massive bridge and the closest under the river also called The Detroit River. Two counties.

I would drive back to Canada by tunnel. My U.S. school was Henry Ford College. It was Orville Hubburd's white home and mayor since 1946 and he doesn't like blacks and they say that if the Russians ever drop a bomb on Dearborn, it will have to be painted white because otherwise it'll never get in. I met Carmen in a psyc class. Carmen is cool to me, she's one of those girls cool to me. She's one of those girls who flirt a little, I take up, she's one of those girls who flirt a little who have and I ask her out. We later meet to a "supper club" like they do here in the "states" and we have two drinks, we with Whisky Sours that Crys showed me later how to drink will liked Sunrises. "More on Crys". After two hours of talking about stopping the war and school we dance and we hold each other with the desperation  of cold war and generally make a spectical in front of the shorthairs. It was a little bit of our war world across the ocean. 


Lovely little Lucy, dark skin Italian girl with gentle features and delicate body. We talked. she liked me and I still love her. Her parents couldn't speak English and nuns at school told her see was hemmed  her skirt to her knees. One night we were walking home and we cut across a cemetary and we sat on an old one and talked and talked until it was midnight until she's crying, and saying she's how she'd beginning to believe the nuns are right. I tell her they're wrong. That she was as real as any other girl who likes a boy and she holds me and I. She says she likes me and I tell her the nuns don't know what they think about anyone and she kisses me and I feel her pain. Then she looks at me with those great doe eyes and lipsticked lips and she kisses me.and I feel through it lips and I just hold her. I learned later that she married an Italian. I never saw her again but someone said she left him.

I miss her even now, think about her. I miss them all.

Back to Featured Articles on Logo Paperblog