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A Friend In America

I held the secret letter deep in my raincoat pocket as I approached the hostel warden. “Excuse me,” I said, obviously American but at least polite. “Are you busy?”

Starting Over

The Ganges river, Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto, Key West

Bert

I’m in love with Bert. I’ve been dreaming for going on six months now about having an affair with him. Unfortunately, I’ve had to take into account the fact that Bert don’t want to, even though he thinks I’m a goddess.

Memento Amori

Love, 1981

Motion Sickness

My wrist grows warm and creaks, aches like an arthritic’s. My forehead’s pressed against his “treasure trail” — that’s what we called the line of hair on a boy’s stomach in high school; giggling, we watched the shirtless boys run back and forth, chasing a ball. When their bellies began to glisten, we grew quiet, afraid to speak our minds. I’m sweating now, with my head smushed against him. I lick him with my wilted tongue.

Making Up

A hand-embroidered silk Chinese robe, a pouting clown picture, a run through the woods

December 1996

I tried to understand something about forgiveness. I wrote a letter to my dead father, then tore it into small pieces. I carried the pieces around for years before I buried them. I forget where.

Reminder

Sunbeams

There is only one big thing — desire. And before it, when it is big, all is little.

Willa Cather