truth or dare

1. they sold rose dhu. i’m going down to say goodbye in late may. i was going to get married there. she said if i ever still wanted to, she was sure they’d let me. i didn’t know how to say ‘no’ without that roughness in my voice. rose dhu, i said i’d take her there, wanted her to see those sunsets. for one day, the river belonged to us, and then it was mine again. it’s always been mine. that’s why i could take her, in spite of those memories. i dreamt of her there. of kissing her there. can i say, meet me, can i say, one night, hold my hand, can i say, i promised and you promised so let’s

i don’t know.

so maybe never?

2. the working title is birmingham. it’s summer and the woman doesn’t remember how to live through summers. there is a memory of a motorcycle ride, feeling the vertabrae of a man’s spine through a leather jacket, pressed against her chest. it was going to be a story about me, sometimes i think they always begin that way, but she’s not going to leave in the end. and she’s not me. i left.

you’re just going to run away, he said. bitterness in his throat, unfamiliar. i put my head down. to some degree, he’s right. i always run away. it’s what i’m fucking good at, okay?

3. i didn’t write about those kisses, and i should’ve. i want to make you blush. i want you to call me, want to hear your voice over the telephone like maybe we’re not so far away. i hate meeting people like you at times like those. magnetic. those chocolate ice cream kisses. that binder of your poetry like you really wanted me to know who you were. i understood that. i said, hey, next december, let’s go get hot cocoa. let’s go to art galleries, museums, cafes. let’s drive around the mountains. you said, that sounds good.

i think maybe you meant, okay, let’s. i think i will count on december being something real. it’s alright if it’s not. i just need pretty plans for faraway months.

4. these days, when people tell me i’m beautiful, i’m starting to believe them. that’s two years of damage, fading. i am hips and strong legs, full breasts and soft skin. i am dark chocolate cherry hair, blue eyes, and ivory dark cream everywhere. i have the kind of lips that people look at and think, first, ‘kiss’. the way i smile, people come up and say hello.

it’s not an unpleasant thing, to like my body again.

i read an old notebook today, his and not mine. he thought i was beautiful, once. the sexiest woman in the world, even. i wanted to laugh, but i couldn’t. he wrote, too, that he didn’t think i was attracted to him. maybe there was some truth to this? i think it was something i taught myself. i don’t know if it’s something i could teach myself again.

i think there are a few exceptions but . . .

it’s so awkward, learning to say out loud, yeah, i’m gay.