men on trains
A man on the L train says to his friend, "Nothing is more attractive than a woman who admits she's wrong about something." A man on the G train says to his date, "Most dichotomies are actually spectrums." A man on the C train says nothing, sits across from me, and stares at the spot where my thighs meet until I clamp my legs together.
the year in I
I felt feverish. I bloomed in the cold. I dreamt I was a murderer. I dreamt I was drugged. I dreamt about your wife. I ate all the chocolate. I cried in driver's seats, passenger seats, and backseats of cars. I cried in the library and I cried at the grocery store and I cried on your brother's fire escape. I walked bridges. I waited. I flew. I wrote emails. I was greedy in my longing. I drank wine, not often, but when I did, too much. I blushed. I apologized for things that were my fault and things that were not my fault. I acknowledged the impossibility of certain futures and I indulged myself in the imagining of them anyway. I bled. I refined my skills. I took my vitamins. I sharpened my arrows. I said, "You can tell me anything," and you did.
