There were many other writers and men of letters present at the gathering. Among them I took a liking to a small, pleasant fellow, by the name of John...Keats. He at least was one poet who did not display those exaggerated emotional feelings of the like of Shelly, Wordsworth or Coleridge. In fact Keats was from a class of society more like my own, whereas the former were from much higher strata. Although Keats' poetry is a bit too cerebral for my taste I found him an engaging and personable. ..yes, it is! And yes, I do." Karen could easily see the curiosity and lust on Rosa’s face. She asked Rosa, "Would you like to touch it? Would you like to hold it in your hand?" Rosa shook her head yes. Miguel’s eyes widened as he looked at the eagerness in his sister’s eyes. The alcohol had caused strange things to happen to them all. As her eyes searched Miguel’s eyes, she couldn’t tell if he wanted her to touch him or not. She first experienced sadness followed by a sudden surge of. More

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