Posters

Today is a horrible day! I texted him at 4:45, on my way home. All I wanted was to lie in a warm place with good smells and maybe fall asleep. Maybe cry a little, but mostly just wait for the pain in my head to go away. Some days are just like that.

Slowdown, he said. I will come over soon. I turned the music up loud enough to drown out the sound of waiting and waited. Wrote some poems. Facebook chatted Mina, which only made me want to write more poems. He came in without knocking, which surprised and pleased me, and sat down at the kitchen table, questioning my music choice. I love this music, I said, and he refused to say anything more. He ate some food, drank some water, and then I pretended I needed a book from the other side of the dining room.

Can I kiss you, I said, standing over him, my hands twisted in front of me. I don’t want anything else. For months I was absorbed in my own sickness and always I knew that I was craving mouths, ,our mouths, yes together. Makes everything better. Or at least, not really matter.

And then I said, come look at my posters, which is quickly becoming code for, shall we go upstairs? Shall we take off our clothes? Shall we distract ourselves, for say, 10-20 minutes and not think about anything but each other, ourselves? It was dark and shadowy and his breath smelled or tasted of decomposing plant matter, which sounds absolutely disgusting when I remember, but in the moment was only intriguing. Anyway we were kissing and I felt like I was fifteen except that when I was fifteen, I was playing legos cross-legged on the floor. Not on top of a shirtless boy.

Skip the part that’s just for me to know and I’m back at the dining room table and it’s like it never happened. Only girls know. People know. It’s all over you, you know, your eyes are falling shut and your face is flushed and for the next hour you will answer questions with, Huh?

We needed dinner and we were waiting for Daniel, and we talked about some poems and then about Edgar Allan Poe and then Daniel called. We ate burritos. His eyes sparkled. I love the rice at Chipotle and so I asked for extra, but then it was like a rice burrito. Until I got to the end which was just pure guacamole deliciousness. The wind picked up and blew across the melted snow and we shivered back to Daniel’s car. Somehow we all knew all the words and threw our hands up in the air sometimes, singing ay yo (hey oh?) gotta let go. For a few seconds, the world slipped back into clear focus. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t upset, and best of all, my head wasn’t hurting. His hand was cold but it was on my knee and I thought, this is what I want, what I need, to make me happy.

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About mayafishsticks

Since I turned 20, it's all gone downhill.
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