Archive for September, 2010

September 30, 2010

Day 6: Eden

asleep, you unfold like the book of Genesis and your fig leafed bits unfurl as well.  you are childlike in your unapologetic nudity, although your physique is prototypically Adult Male muscle, sinew and hair.  you smell like the earth and taste like overripe fruit warmed by the sun.

i wonder if you view me as more than just an extension of you, more than an ache in your side or an accessory to the paradise you’ve crafted out of expensive Swedish furniture and kitschy Japanese decorations.  guiltily, i find my tongue twisting in bastardized prayer to be led TO temptation.

September 29, 2010

Day 5: White

i never understood the envy of blond hair and blue eyes.  yes, i had Barbie dolls.  yes, i recognized at an early age that Disney princesses/the girls on “Full House” looked nothing like me–my dark frizzy islander hair, my flat nose, my brown skin.  a few times, i toyed with hair color/colored contacts and even skin whitening products, but it was never more than a passing fancy, lasting no longer than it took for my eyes to dry out or my dark roots to grow out, at the longest.

no.  my laziness/intolerance for discomfort kept me from maintaining such ideals.

September 28, 2010

Day 4: My Favorite Customer

You used to do this thing when you drank from a glass of something cold.  You’d rest your teeth on the rim of the cup and let your lower lip pull some of the condensation up to your tongue.  It was almost obscene.  But, of course, you had no idea, in the same way that you were unaware of the fact that your endless supply of sundresses (even in dead winter–except worn with tights and scarves), the small tattoo on the back of your neck–even your chipped nail polish and your coconut-scented everything (I hate coconut)–were painfully charming and silently maddening.

September 27, 2010

Day 3: Sleep

he lay awake, thinking about the Cake lyrics, “when you sleep, where do your fingers go?”.  his own digits fidget at his sides before balling wads of bedsheets into his sweaty palms.  he feels sick with nerves.

he wonders what people do when they find themselves sleeping next to someone.  yes, he has experienced sharing a hotel bed with a sibling during a family trip.  but in that case, it was all about staying on your side of the bed, ideally partitioned by the use of pillows (the lack of a head rest well worth the defense of his territory).

September 25, 2010

Day 2: Pockets

We used to walk side-by-side, with our hands in our pockets, eyes fixated on the ground –or something else–to offset the fact that the others’ arm was so close that you could feel the heat radiating from my skin and I the fine hairs sticking up from yours.  If we spoke, we did as if on the telephone.

I’d like to say that things were simpler back then.  But I know that–if we were completely honest–the actual complicatedness of our situation always made itself known.  And the answer to that complexity clearly did NOT live at the bottom of our pockets…

September 25, 2010

Day 1: Breath

she feels her breath catch in her throat, like something solid.  but it isn’t a sharp pain, like a fish bone, as it sometimes is.  instead, it feels like ice that is slowly melting, allowing for air flow, yet still choking her and making her feel cold inside.  she isn’t quite sure if she is sad, ill, nervous, or simply reacting to some hitherto unknown food allergy.


does the reason really matter at this point?  by the time that she can mentally articulate the feeling, the ice cube is almost fully melted (though the cold remains).  she catches her breath.