Jackie Poudrette.

I have this theory that there are a very few "types" in the world. That statement is going to be tough to explain without sounding like a gibbering lunatic but even gibbering lunacy on my part will be a step up in some people's eyes.

So.

I went school from the fifth through the eigth grade with a kid who had curly red hair and freckles. I have seen him in at least a dozen different carrot-topped gentlemen I've seen or met over the intervening years. Same general face. Same general voice. Same basic physical characteristics.

But it's not just him.

Sometimes I meet someone or see someone while I'm people-watching and I know how they will act and talk based soley on my having seen their "type" before. I'm usually right, too.

Sure, I could be reading my lunacy into them but I'm also a keen observer of people. That's a skill I've been forced to build on through a childhood of accidental fractures and an adulthood of deafness. I've had to watch things, be careful, be quiet and keep my eyes open my whole life. I see people and situations differently than most people do. Heck, I feel people differently than most people do.

So, for some reason saw Jackie Poudrette today.

Twenty-two years ago, I kissed Jackie Poudrette in the parking lot behind the Burger King in my hometown in New Jersey. Twice. We were friends. She was 17 and I was 22. We spent a lot of time on the phone, talking about her high school band experiences and stuff and we hung out at BK when our shifts allowed it. She had beautitful eyes.

Jackie was one of the girls whom, had I any damn sense at all, I could have dated. Lacking any damn sense, all we had was this awkward relationship complicated by these two kisses.

I saw her today but I really doubt that it was her. I have no idea what she looks like today or if she's even still alive. I know that's a morbid thing to say but I still don't know why I saw her face on someone on the street today. I don't know why I was compelled to title this entry "gasp from the past" when I was thinking "blast from the past".

I've learned that there is more in Heaven and Earth than my philosophy. More important, I've learned to not mock that "more" shit when I see it.

Google says she may have been a teacher in Tenafly NJ in 1997 but nothing else. She played the flute. She had a big butt.

She kissed real nice.