“Hi how are you? How is your folks? What have you been doing?”
I stare, knowing I don’t know this face or this voice. Certain.
“You don’t know me.” She laughs. She knows I don’t.
“But I know you. I remember your photo, what
you used to write when you were that kid
the newspaper kid.” She laughs again.
How does she know me from
that black and white
from years ago?
But she does.
Grew up with a younger brother and a baby newspaper.
Knew how to be little grown up young, always on.
Spotlight shone on clothes, hair, feelings, me.
Seventeen years with that, living in that
small yet intense spotlight made me.
Made us. Our family. Different.
The HORSES ALL people.
That family that did
the paper all the
time and stuff.
Sorta famous, once. Long ago. But maybe not so long as I thought.
Interview for the 35th year. Going for 35 years.
Not the same, so much changes as we grow.
Older, not wiser maybe nor better.
It is, and was, after all pulp,
ink and heart, bloodied
hands and tears too.
For Fireblossom’s challenge at With Real Toads. Not movie star famous, or singer famous but rubbed shoulders with them all. Never able to be star struck, but can move in the circles with ease. Used to be sorta famous, once, long ago. Maybe someday I’ll be that again, not as a horse magazine kid, writer and photographer but as a grown up poet and photographer.