By Barry Basden
I went to elementary school with her in Dallas. One morning before classes at a large Houston high school, she walked up and told me so.
I looked at her. “I don’t remember you.”
“No,” she said. “You wouldn’t.”
She hung out with the low-rider boys, the ones who drove muscle cars and wore studded motorcycle jackets, while I mostly walked to school. My few friends were poets and actors. I never spoke to her again.
Over the years, I’ve looked for her at online class registry sites and often wondered what became of her. I hope someone finds out.