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Out
by Angela ThomasI was walking down the street of Brooklyn, the buildings
far too low for my tastes, with my new friend David. Slowly,
we puffed like little dragons practicing our skills to impress
princesses in distress. Suddenly, everything made so much
sense to me. The confusion, the guilt even, I feel in the women's
room. Like I don't belong there amungst all of these beautiful
and prophetic creatures. The night my best friend and I saturated
our lungs with the nicotene of a hooka, saturating our lips in each
other's body. The silence, the deafening roar of nothingness
after making love - thinking that no matter how hard I hold this man,
he will never make me feel like an oak. Tall and proud, secure in my
roots, my gently swaying branches, protected from trouble, insecurity,
pain. I hold her side as we move together to the music - she gently
puts her lips on my neck, like testing a glass of merlot to see if it's ripe.
06/10/2007 Posted on 06/10/2007
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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