i was on the a train on my way to your apartment on 148th street sitting across from the only two people in the car. he was a blonde russian; she was an extremely skinny african model. they both wore wedding rings.
as they held one another in each other’s arms and made-out, i sat directly in front of them. and trying not to stare, i pulled out the constitution from my pocket.
in between gobbling eachother’s faces like sardine sandwiches, she would quickly snicker at me and then whisper in her lovers ear… who would then look at me, and then ridicule me as well.
i sat there, staring at one clause trying to imagine what else the rhetoric could represent… never-the-less, i’ve never felt so threatened.
yet! it didn’t matter; fore i just came back from thanksgiving spent in washington d.c.
my baby cousin madelynn and i dreamed we were mermaids on an island. we blew up balloons that held memories of babies and let them deflate. madelynn and i ate sugared peaches.
from d.c., i texted you i was pregnant, although, i wasn’t.
we spent the past two nights talking about the possibility of abortion because i was smoking cigarettes in my first trimester. you asked me to come visit you when i came back to nyc. i did.
i came out of the subway and reached my hands to the sky.
someone walked passed me said that something about “harvard shit.”
i explained to you i was talking about uranian love. you mentioned martin luther king jr. i cried and sat on your rug. you told me to get out.
as i was walking to the hudson river to go weep in self-pity, i came across a man named dre. he befriended me quickly, rubbed my feet, stole $10,000 from my dresser at sunrise, and then changed his number.
a month later, i was sitting in a log cabin in the mountains when i saw a commercial for drake dentistry. behind the dentist were sparkling letters that said, “FLOSSY.” i looked outside, you were there; i thought it bizzare because it was the second time i saw you in colorado.
you were also sitting next to my father-in-law, john wayne, on the airplane ride from ny to denver:
yes! as we crossed the colorado border line, i started to think about dead gabriel and hysterically started to cry. someone sitting behind me passed me a nickel. you too started to laugh uncontrollably; i’m not sure if it was because you were watching charlie sheen’s roast or because we were flying at 30,000 feet.