Love Knows No Color

Josh. Yeah, I liked him. He liked me too. We argued a lot, laughed a lot. We had good times together, challenged each other. We were good together he and I, and good for each other I think. 10th grade.

Stupid Springfield. Stupid racial politics. There were a few interracial couples during my years there, but it was always a white girl and black guy. Josh and I were different though. He was white, I was black. That was unheard of. A big no no.

He and I were cool though. People looked at us funny sometimes because of the way we carried on together. "Is it possible HE likes HER?" was the question implied but never directly asked. "You like him, don't you?" "Do you think he likes you?" they would ask with their mocking smiles.

This one time we walked home from school together. We were nervous. We stopped at his house first. We started off playing Nintendo in his room. Sitting on his bed. Then we had that moment. That awkward teenage moment when you want to kiss, but just aren't sure... The weight of what we were pondering was enormous. I don't remember what was said, put I remember that feeling. Nervous but excited. So sweet. So electric.

His brother came busting in and broke the spell. Stupid reality. Stupid Springfield. A few months later he went the Snow Dance with one of my best friends. Someone more "acceptable" in appearance. They gave me a picture. After that he and I weren't as close.

His family moved to New Jersey after at the end of that school year. He and I lost touch. Last I heard he was married, divorced and remarried. I wish him well, no hard feelings. Josh. Face.

Yeah, love knows no color... but prejudice sure does.

That is all.