“where did you meet her?”
“high school. we had biology together. she said she was looking for a sex buddy for the summer and i said ‘hey, i can be that.’ we dated for awhile and i thought i was falling in love with her.
she told me at my high school film screening. i should have listened to her then. she said ‘i ruin people.’”
sitting in the warm coffeeshop in collegetown, missing my baby. the rain pours outside the window and i sip my warm drink, remembering what her lips felt like against mine. it isn’t long before my drink is gone and my lips are cold again.
words spill out of me like the rain falling from the sky and i write and i write. i recall how it feels to know her loving in the mornings in the afternoon in the evening when we should be at a recording session instead.
My instinct tells me to crush my heel into the gravel and into the dirt and bolt for the grassy hills on the other side of this wide open field of wildflowers we are standing in. My instinct tells me to throw a strong net over my fickle heart and hold her from jumping into the rocky, foamy sea below the cliff we perch upon.
My instinct tells me to hang up the phone. My instinct tells me to stop listening to stop listening to stop listening to her sweet voice on the other end of the line. My instinct tells me it is time to run.
It is not your time, sweet baby. It will never be your time.
Wait for the ‘but I’m not in love with you,’ that you’ve heard so many times before.
Her coffee hair is in pigtails at the nape of her neck and i want to put my hands behind her head and pull them out and i want to pull the sunglasses out of her hair and put them on her the bridge of her nose and push them behind her ears while she smiles at me and the sun radiates onto her toffee colored skin.
Her shirt is coral and makes the pink in her cheeks pop out at me which really only teases me and makes me want to slip my hands underneath even more but i cant do that because we are at a storage unit so you can pick up your key to store your shit over the summer in ithaca.
Now we are at a gas station in upstate new york and she buys me a coffee and herself a sticky bun and we are holding hands and we are so so happy and i am in love.
I said myself that we have to go searching for our words- so the search begins. Today’s words are: silk, sheer and smudge.
baby you are my safe haven and in your arms i feel so content. baby you are my safe haven, you are my ANGEL. you appeared to me in a burst of smoke and i fell to my knees. you hold me in your heart and you shelter me from the world. you keep me an honest woman and you keep me a faithful woman.
baby i wasn’t spiritual until i met you.
i’m sitting in the corner of a coffee shop, wearing a brown corduroy miniskirt and a black turtleneck. my hair is shorter, and redder. i look hot. so hot, that i’ve noticed the eye of the young chicana staring at me across the shop. we’re both bent over our notebooks, writing furiously. her, a journal. me, poetry.