Memoir of a silhouette


I’m falling in love

with the girl on the subway

headed to Queens

and I’m headed to Brooklyn.

I wave in her general direction

like I always do

desperate to be loved

and I’m convinced

I’m nothing but a house of cards

on a hotel towel near a pool

somewhere underwater

and above the moon

and right when I think

I am done making peonies

out of the wet cement

she waves back.

For an instant, I am alive.

For the first time in months

I have a sign that I exist

and I become myself.

Thumbnail image by Sabrina Sanchez and Emmaline Waller.