The girl I loved first had yellow hair, a funny nose, and unbridled optimism. She danced to the Doors, and her father once caught me with my hands under her shirt, Saturday Night Live on his TV.
I made her cry when college came.
The second girl I kissed at a bonfire, fireworks filling the night. Her eyes. My temper and tequila and frat parties killed what we had
She left my heart in a ditch, wanting to die.
The third one almost got away with my brother’s best friend. But I fought. When her lips touched mine, my heart healed. I married her by the ocean, in a cold drizzle.