He liked to play so much I got sick of it. Games like

connect the dots with his cigarettes on my skin. I didn't get hit

in dodge ball very often, he made sure of that—We practiced

with plates and my head. I hated tag. He cheated

by using a whip as his catching hand. Hide and seek left

me feeling guilty though. I didn't get found but

mommy wasn't so good at hiding. We played with punishment rules;

hers was a fork to the neck. He didn't know

playground rules. To stop a bully get someone bigger; my savior

was a couple hundred pounds heavier and kicked harder. She

was nice, always gave me rides and chased him to the other side

of the fence. His best friend was Bud Light. They went

everywhere together. He eventually wanted to play alone. Rhythmic gymnastics

became his favorite game. Though I don't think

he was doing it right. He used a chain

and his neck.