one bedroom

there is a romance in dinner alone,
lick every spatula clean and
add too much cardamom because
only you like that much spice.

slick with sweat over the stove,
worrying about what it’ll do to the cashmere
when you realize you are wearing
expensive clothes for an absent audience.

the oven heat touches your bare chest like
a breath. who knew how good it feels
to touch tomatoes to the inside of your arms,
the stickiness of seeded flesh.

turn on some sweet woman
over the speakers who will seduce you
into loving yourself. pour a glass of wine
into a coffee mug. eat slowly and congratulate
yourself on a job well done. when the food
is gone, think of other ways you know

how to feel pleasure. the song changes and
you decide you are just not full enough
i’d like to put my fingers on you

touch yourself beneath the dinner table,
hands nipped with the smell of garlic and
smoothed with olive oil, be 
certain
you are getting crumbs everywhere

 

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in death

i make my boyfriend bacon wrapped
pork chops and feel weird about two
different pigs touching in death,
bits of their bodies that never met
air pressed, woven and left to leak
grease onto the floor of the oven.

Rewrite:

she rotates the bag of popcorn so its yawning mouth
is faced away from her own. two popped kernels tumble
onto the table, she pushes them back into the bag
without looking.

the knuckles of her fingers are the widest part
her knees like softballs dropped into socks,
forearms shaped like the bones they hold.

at the end of the night it takes her two tries
to get her backpack up to shoulder height.
when her torso crumbles like sandstone
on the first attempt, the patches of barren scalp
are visible – her hair has begun to fall out,
each strand jumping like the crew
of a burning ship.

it starts at the elbows

the skin at her elbows was so thin
i thought it might split
the pressure from her insides all at once too much
for the flesh her body forgot to build.
her thighs and forearms
are shaped like the bones they hold.

the amount of wrong toned concealer
blotched like drying acrylic
across her cheeks –
but the green-hued bruises on her throat
dappled across the lump resting
between collarbones. It is hard to distinguish
marks by mouths from fingers.

her hair is twisted, tucked, fluffed
white at the roots, hairspray held too close.
I wonder if it has already begun to fall out –
each strand jumping like the crew
of a burning ship.

(Day 7): Saturday night alone at the diner

the spoons are too wide for my mouth.
i dissolve forkfuls of peanut butter cheesecake
into over creamed coffee.
the girl beside me at the counter asks what book
i am reading, apologizes for being nosey.
read: apologizes for pitying me.

i come here to remember how to walk
in high heels. how to bunch up tights at the ankle
to prevent blisters. the difference between hazelnut
and french vanilla. that an internet article
told me people who drink coffee
are more afraid of dying.

Nobody ever wants to head back east

And neither do I. I know this trip is about movement, about change and new experiences. But I really have loved the first half of this trip, which included this time on the west coast. Leaving San Francisco tomorrow feels like a bit of a turning point in the trip, San Fran has been incredible, but sadly today was my last full day here. Luckily I managed to pack a bunch of good things into it.

This morning, I met up with Ryant and Eli, the two friends I made earlier in the trip. Sadly, we met up for lunch/some exploration as a way to say goodbye. Although I met them barely a week and a half ago, I never would have guessed how much we would all bond. Wandering San Francisco, hours spent watching the sun set over the ocean at Big Sur, fighting the waves in San Diego, nude beaching and karaoke in Austin, a music festival in NOLA- alright, I’m making it a little cheesy, but really – I really was sad to say goodbye to them today. They are both incredible people, and I feel like I learned so much and had so much fun with them during our travels together.  Saying goodbye to them is part of the reason that this feels like a bit of a turning point for the trip. It feels like we all reached sort of this end where normal people stop, and then I’m the one that’s pushing on.  I’m trying to focus on the ways in which that is exciting – the adventure is only half over.

anyway, walking around SF with them was a nice way to start the day. On their way out of town, they dropped me off in the Mission to do some cruising around that area. My Uncle picked me up from there, and we decided to go to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, which was incredibly cool. It has just been redone and expanded in the past few years, and then it opened again last month. The building itself was very cool, and the art was phenomenal. Really an awesome collection of contemporary art.

This evening I went to an excellent sushi place for my last meal in the city. Sushi is one of my great loves in life, and I was not disappointed.  San Francisco has treated me well.

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Posing with an Alexander Calder sculpture at the SF MOMA

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Ugh these views could never get old

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Wandering the Castro

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Eli and I waiting for lunch. Really going to miss this dude and his squinty smile.