Under A Plum Tree
I remember the first kiss
I ever had. I was taking a walk with a boy that I was in a theater production of The Fiddler on the Roof. He was part of the cast and I was a stage hand. I thought he was cute, and he liked me back. We stopped under a plum tree in the summer, ripe with dark purple fruits. There was an old horse shed next to it, and I leaned up against it, the sunshine heating my skin. He leaned over and kissed me. I remember running my fingers up his spine and thinking, "God, he is so very skinny! I can feel every bump in his spine!" We spent the summer kissing in the stage curtains, and after the show finished, we stopped seeing each other. I don't know what happened to that boy. He was very odd in a sweet geek kind of way. I'll never forget that plum tree.