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klsylvan [2007-08-03 01:14:07 +0000 UTC]

Shanita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Sha-nee-ta.

She was Shane, plain Shane, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Shana in slacks. She was Shawna at school. She was Dolores Strange on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Shanita.

Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Shanita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Shanita was born as my age was that summer.

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