she would be there with her gang of girls or other kids whom she managed like a pro. jumping over little mounds of grass and stones... or swinging the kids to her pace. aliyeh was spunky. she could talk to any one. and her head of wild curls tamed everyone but her hair. not that she gave a damn i think. the rest of the kids hung around her like groupies except for one truculent boy who refused to even jig to a guitar finely strung to cash's ring of fire. she was wild and i feared for her. for her free, vulnerable spirit. vulnerable to the frustrations of a cynical world of egos and desperate sexualities. i got drunk, sat by a weely smoke and cried like a baby, and my man never forgot my moment of darkness. such is this heart that sees more than it should.