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Photography by Adam Coleman

there’s kombucha in my fridge

and crystals in my pockets

totems

they make me feel good

i curse like a sailor

i like sailors

my dad was one in a past life

and my grandpa

lately I’m thinking of his faded tattoo.

I sweep the house at 2am

hot showers are a place to listen

that little voice

and a place

to wash salt water

from a lover’s body

a space for tears to roll down the drain

i might forget your birthday

but if you need a shoe

i’ll offer my whole damn foot

I’ll celebrate you

on some insignificant afternoon in September

nowhere near your birthday

when the party is over

and you just need a friend.

i may be short on dollars

but I’ll cook you a meal

and there will be love

in every simple bite

avocados are a gift from god

when they are ripe

they are so damn ripe

i’ll rip the band aid off

i’ll remember the wound

when it has left your skin

i’ll kiss it while you sleep

“have you eaten?” is the most romantic question

if we can stop an argument

mid yell

to laugh

i’m yours

if you’re 84 or 5 or 20

i’m your friend

i don’t see age as a concept that can define friendship

if you like dancing

name the time

tell me about your life

i’ll keep your story safe

i’m praying for you

even when you think I’ve forgotten you

even if you don’t believe in that stuff

i don’t need a shelf for my books

i don’t even need the books

they’ve been read

nothing belongs to us

paper stories making their way

to their next visitor

if I give you a book

it means I love you

it means there’s a mind space I want to meet you in

community is for communing

abundance

is how much you can give

i fuck up

a lot

i’m not too proud to say I’m sorry

there’s no shame in re-parking the car

if the angle wasn’t right

if you flip me off

i’m flattered

i’m trying

perfection is boring

there are skeletons in my closet

if you ask me

i’ll let them dance with yours

how do you like your eggs?

across the many beds

i have fortunate enough to sleep in

I’ve eaten eggs with mozzarella

with masala spices

i’ve had them sunny side up

and scrambled with apples

buffet tables

and hip brunch restaurants

and baby shower quiches

dorm dining halls

a tiny Manhattan kitchen

An Indonesian jungle

and times when the pain

was so great

it was all I could swallow

and when they were all I could afford

when they were all I could offer a guest

i’ve bought them

in 99 cent stores

and Whole Foods

and corner bodegas

and been given boxes of them straight off a farm

i’ve had them in hotels

and at my mother’s kitchen table

and roadside diners

parking lots on cold mornings before heading to set

and in my bed

and yours

and that morning in Thailand

when I rode that unruly elephant

and they were so spicy

so very very spicy

and in Cuba

when I ate them with beans and rice and was home

i cooked them for you

you cooked them for me

in butter

in olive oil

in coconut oil

in boiling water

if we’ve cracked some eggs together

there’s a morning

and probably a night

or many

i will never forget.

i desire not to own a single thing

except maybe this T-shirt

this T-shirt is good

it has holes

i earned

through wear

i think I would save this T-shirt in a fire

It holds more memories than photographs

but I like those too

when they are paper

touch

the ones that are fading

they’ve been around

like my jeans

“vintage”

because I like that they are worn in

and cost ten bucks

and I’ll never know the person who wore them in for me

but I like knowing they exist(ed)

and that they sewed on a new button when the old one fell off

i like your wrinkles

they show me you have been somewhere

teach me about loving

an afternoon drinking coffee in the sun is bliss

i’m impressed with kindness

if you show me bills I see is paper

if I spent the money

i’ll make some more

travel is all ways worth it

dollars are everywhere

if I’m willing to collect them

i’m grateful for two legs

some days I cry on my bicycle thinking how lucky I am to have legs to push me forward

how did I get this lucky?

how?

if you need some tea I’ll make it

nothing makes me happier

sometimes we need something to warm our insides

don’t tempt me with skinny dipping

i’m always down

and it’s not always appropriate

so the world tries to tell me

but water on the skin feels so damn good

sometimes I just have to share

my body with the naked moon

not all solo diners are lonely

are we afraid of them

because they enjoy their own company?

ask me anything

i might alarm you with my answer

i’m too tired to lie

there is no situation where it’s inappropriate to be human

when the woman I have claimed as my sister

shit her pants at the Taj Mahal

i knew I could always be myself with her

don’t apologize for having a human body

a human heart

bed head is my favorite head

i love people who own stamps

do you want to be my pen pal?

i’m always trying to fit a life into a day

if I’m late

if I made you wait

i’m sorry

i’m still trying to figure out what time is

high tech watches haven’t helped

i’m working on it

i once put a face mask on my dog

she’s my best girlfriend

i still can’t figure out why I can’t take her

to places like doctor’s offices with me

i’d give anything to run

through a jungle

again

being simple is freedom

i feel successful when I help someone with directions

directions are hard

i still have to check how to get from a to b

even if it’s a daily route

i get lost in the neighborhood I grew up in

it’s part of the thrill

when something old is still new

teach me about my body when you touch me

no two touches are alike

do tears of laughter and tears of sadness taste the same

i once licked your eyeball

because I couldn’t get close enough to you

i wanted to crawl up into your thunder beating heart

we laughed so fucking hard

i can still taste that joy

love doesn’t end when a relationship ends.

formalities with someone I’ve shared my bed with

will never

be something

I will even attempt

to wrap my head around.

making my mom pee her pants with laughter is my sick and twisted past time

when she goes sprinting to the toilet with her pants around her ankles, I could die happy

i love the quiet in the house when I’m the only one awake

i’m learning to be a morning person

it takes hours of reading and writing and processing

before I leave my room

It may not always be this way

but for now

i took the pills for the chemical imbalance in my brain

when it got bad enough

when the hole kept getting wider

i understood

being tough isn’t enough

that help is a complete sentence

i want to live.

emotional sobriety turns me on.

bringing someone a glass of water turns me on.

glances across rooms turn me on.

i’m still learning what turns me on.

if we started complementing people’s insides as much as we complimented their outsides...well you understand.

i still remember the first time

my father touched my belly hanging over my skirt

as I sat in his lap

and said “what’s this?”

it wasn’t until I loved another woman

that I understood my body too could be lovable

that all women are delicious.

that my body too might be delicious.

i’m still learning this.

there’s far to go.

i play with my belly because it’s fun

not because I wish it weren’t there.

i eat because I’m hungry

most times

that wasn’t always the case.

i don’t have to fill my stomach to feel full of life

most days

i used to escape with television.

i’ve learned life is more interesting.

feelings are more interesting.

the smell of cut grass is more interesting.

a great Saturday night is a sound bath and a good slice of pizza.

i feel more beautiful in my nightgown

and bare feet

than any pair of heels

who invented heels?

i’ve been wearing doc Martens since the 6th grade

every time I put them on

i think of riding in my best friend’s mom’s Volvo

and potato chips dipped in ranch

my mother was missing but somehow I felt safe.

my mother taught me to share what we had

the homeless used our shower

our neighbors brought us groceries

there was always enough

and the dog always got a taco at the drive-through

what’s mine is yours

even my body is borrowed

from the earth

i’m starting to like the way it fits

what’s in the pockets?

what’s in the kitchen drawer

amongst the soy sauce packets

what’s in the back of the freezer

my 16th birthday and thanksgiving pie

a loose tooth and a string

I can’t find the other end

a skinned knee

a first kiss

a morning

her skin on my back

my feet

in the dirt

a tricycle

his smile on my neck

a packed lunch

a floral dress

a school dance

a hammer

a pen

and a thrift store lamp

these words

and some more

I haven’t found

yet.


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