papa can you hear me?

My papa came to see me last night.
I met him in the wonderful year of 1987. I was invited to a rollerskating rink on the north side of Chicago. At the time, I knew who I was, I knew what I wanted, but of course I didn’t know that many people- let alone those who were older than I was. As soon as I met him I was over at the house the following weekend where I met all of the cohorts – LGW, The Dancer, and The Jailbird. To say that I learned that year how to deal with my “ways” was an understatement. I met others that same year – including one of the people who is often mentioned and has a slammin’ website, but also whose name I will not reveal – but I’m sure you can figure out. As time went on, we found out our likes and dislikes, how to be in multiple relationships (and the ensuing drama), how to have friends who stimulated your mind and sucked everything you had out of you.
Fifteen years later, we’re still alive. Yeah, we are the most reckless drivers you’d ever want to see, we both sit on our computers and find the strangest places to surf to, and we can cut people apart at the slightest glance and put them back together with the glue of friendship. But out of all of that mess, we still survive.
Now, is that love, or what?
We’ve been eating, sleeping, and typing all day today, but it’s a great feeling. It may sound like a boring trip for him, but we’re all okay- slow, but okay.
Can I reminisce or what? And no, I haven’t done anything else today except go to the dentist and eat KFC.
But you know what? I’m alright.