Allure; tenure

I’ll teach in my thirties. She meant it. Her professor once told her she had a mirthful wisdom that shone in her face. She knew he would have believed her if she said she had just left a parent teacher meeting rather than a bar. I’d say high school and college. Students need encouragement and creative nurturing, you know, something to hold on to. Give their dreams a heart. A steady beating heart. Or maybe it’s only writers that need that?

She didn’t know what passion was until she sat across from her new lover at lunch. She felt it when there was no space between them. Understood it when she told friends it wasn’t sex. It was love making. An affair that kept her legs crossed at the table.

Glancing at his sandwich. Slowing eating her soup. Their hands coming together – the way they did many times. He was talking. She was eating. Checking her phone for the time. Observing his facial expressions that pleaded with her. Love me. Believe me. Say you love me.

Looking past his face she caught glimpse of the restroom. He could make October feel like June inside her. Make the dark afternoons light again. It wasn’t the light. It was the heat from the light she wanted. Eyes squinting, beads of sweat. On her back. On her chest. On her neck. Her face.

It’s October and it’s cool. Lips to her skin. Sweater to her back. He’s large and warm. Under sheets like a tourist. He was like a tourist. She, on top like a tour guide. A historian for a country. A case. A culture.

Holding him tight, pulling at his shirt because he didn’t know the way back to her job. She held his waist. Remembered what it felt like. Touching him. No clothes. No sheets. The heat from the light. With her right arm she moved his body left then right to cross the street. Let me show you the way, she said. He looked at her. Ready. And said: you’re good at leading.

Allure; atlantic

We’re going to these meetings but we’re not doing any meeting. We try to stay faithful but we’re cheating, cheating, cheating.

* * *

We were the young ones in the office. Young and impressionable. The world was so easy to us. My boss and I arrive at a magazine launch party. I left my fake ID at home. You arrived before me, with yours ready to enter. Boss said a couple words and we were in. The young ones. This was the night the older ladies tried to “hook us up.” We laughed. We connected already. Did we kiss that night? You know, at the party? I remember taking a picture together. Said you can have the picture when you don’t belong to her anymore. I think we did kiss. You asked me what it felt like. I said, the ocean, as I hopped in a taxi to meet my boyfriend at home.

* * *

She was crying on the 6 train. I wondered why. I felt happy and maybe subconsciously in my movement, my demeanor, my face so content, I wanted her to see me happy. It was evil. I get to my apartment. It’s dark and late. Would you like to restore your last session? The computer asked. Yes. And that was it. My boyfriend cheated on me. Was this before or after that magazine launch party? I apologized in my heart to the random girl on the train.

* * *

Both of you are gone. I feel light. Maybe it’s the gym. Now that there’s no “real love.” It feels so urgent.

* * *
I want you to love me already.
I love you because we are the same person.
This is unfulfilled. But fill me up, fill me up.
Until then.

* * *

Met a young boy around 18. Beautiful curly brown hair. His build suggests he should play football when he starts college in the fall. I imagine what I could teach him. What I taught you. And you. What you never got. What you did so well. I monitor his nervousness while I stand in front of him. Smiling. In a dangerous way. He’s young. Delicate and innocent with a tattoo on his forearm that says live today for a better tomorrow.

Other Stories

Champagne glasses shattered across the floor.

Valet sensed the urgency.

Began to think about the ocean. You on the beach. The sounds, the waves, the cries of joy. Your forearm. Strength. Grip.

Where’s the car?

Are you happy now? You asked. You’ve used what you think love is. And you turned it into a self-portrait. Are you happy? All the success. You. Your words. You and your words. Before you go, tell me. Are you happy?

I take in the ocean when I can. Aren’t people always searching for more?

You can read Other Stories here.

***

It’s usually the Brooklyn basements or Recita rooftops that make me realize I hate this earth. It’s waking up at 6am, while you lay sleeping, wondering how, physically, my body managed to make it to you, to here. And it all comes together, at different times, in pieces, like a foreign family to the free land. The earth is giving up on me. There is no feeling of joy, no height of climax, no – connecting. But there is you. There is this earth. This basement. That rooftop. Your words. Your time. The earth is going to have my soul. I cannot move. My hands. They’re moving. I am touching everything.

You want to know. More and more. You know so much, know so little. There are questions. There are your eyes. I am sitting, watching your eyes and your hands. And I’m starting to think about writing. There is no feeling but there are words. The words of sleepless nights, the stolen, the deceit, the bags, love, hate, lies, drugs, alcohol, parents, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, enemies, envy, hair, cheese, there is wine. You begin to drink. There are questions. You ask. Where is the happiness? What about the sex, the love, the passion, hugs, rain in the height of summer, the sun, smiles, sons, daughters, children. I am in a basement. And it’s usually the basements or rooftops that make realize there is – this earth.

You can read Allure here.

Allure; distilled vodka

He was perfect. She talked about how it felt when she touched him; he felt like a man. She hadn’t thought of him until he sent her a message. Then it all came back. The four different cars. The woman he embraced atop a bed of leaves. The lies. The leaving. Her words.

They spent four hours sitting in a car talking about the intimate moments they shared – the public and the private. And when they kissed, she realized the walls he couldn’t get past and the walls he could tear down. Screen captures of his face, on top of her, giving a different kind of love.

With her head in his lap she thought about what it would be like for him to be the one she did love. The one she wanted to love. Ready to love the one who didn’t know she loved him. She thought about what he would say. What they’d talk about. How his waist would feel in her grip. But she’d wait for that.

In the car she asked him why he sent the message. His indistinct answer was something along the lines of missing her, tired of going off memory. Despite her sudden departure, he was glad he could inspire some of her work. She looked out the window of the car that sat idle on a dead end street. Thought about how she prayed for men and played with boys. Looked to him and said Thank you.

Allure; seconds

I flew to Miami alone. Met some guys on the plane who dropped me off at the hotel after a walk on the beach. Stripped to my swimsuit and went back out.

Sleeping on the beach alone. The sun each second making me feel like I’m the only one here. Taking my body in a room, adding pressure each second. Sounds like men are standing over me. I still feel chosen, despite the voices. Saying my name. Someone is saying my name.

I fell for you back in New York. After a couple meetings I wanted you to love me. I wanted to know your scent. But each time, as friendly as before. Hugs and hellos and your eyes.

I’m writing this from a place of belief. It would be your eyes. When we look, we’re looking for more. There are always so many around. I want you to love me. I want to tell you how often I think of you. But then, you’ll be like the others. Lost and holding on. I like you where you are. On top of me. In this room. Adding pressure each second.

Allure; us

Today’s my birthday. This tiny villa feels a bit like the home in the valley back in California. I can almost see everything from the bed if I open my eyes and concentrate. The night stand to my left with a silver necklace and heart pendant. The night stand to your right with a gold watch resting. We don’t need time. I left my blackberry on a seat in the airline waiting area. You called me crazy. I called you needy. Today’s my birthday. Now we’re lying down on sheets in the sand. The sun is so hot. When it’s hot like this I’m able to smile. To laugh. I feel the heat through my skin. Touch yours so that you feel me. You can feel me when I’m like this.

I left the states for this sun. The premature dreams at a desk. I followed the warmth and it led me here in the sand. Eyes to the ocean.

You want to know when I’ll come back

I don’t know. Everything I thought I understood, I don’t

You want to know how I can do this. I have family, friends, I have you

I say it’s true. I say it’s also true that people are best friends. Then one day strangers

You want me to understand that you can’t imagine not knowing me.

Today’s my birthday. And it’s just us and the sun.

Allure; oviedo

I promised I wouldn’t fall asleep with you. You told me to stay. I told you I could not. We made love through the night. We made love as hard and as constant as the snowfall in Boston. We lay down on leaves that design your sheets. I repeated I couldn’t stay. My legs locked between yours like a puzzle. Fell asleep locked inside each other. Touching glass again. Touching so much my hands are lost.

You walked over to me. My mind traveled to your bed and fell asleep the way we did. After you kissed my cheek, I managed to ask how you were doing. Tried to calm my eyes as they followed you. Wanted to tell you I want you. I wanted back to your bed. Slip on my bra and panties and sleep the way we did.

Driving back to you. Different this time. Truth in time. I can see my hands now. On your back. On your chest. Locked in yours. I can feel my hands now. On your face. Gripping your legs. Locked in yours. I can see my face now. Looking at you, wanting to hold every moment of this love inside. Touching so much. Where are you? Where are my hands? The eyes that belong to me are taking pictures of your smile. Fingers somewhere gripping your skin. Pulling your hair. Give me your eyes.

I’m done with you. You belong to someone else. I say.
Why are you looking at me like that?
You are beautiful.
I don’t see myself as beautiful.

Allure; moondog millionaire

We hop in a cab to a party in the city. It’s packed. There’s a pink gorilla. Kanye West. You’re swallowed by the crowd. I see Johnnie and stay by his side. He pokes, pushes, and pulls at me all night. Grabs me outside on the sidewalk after, kisses me like love that will never and always be.

The guy I’m seeing buys me a Hello Kitty toothbrush for his apartment before we’ve even fucked. He makes Hungarian crepes and raspberry banana French toast for breakfast and takes me out on the town every night. He’s 37 and I’m playing around. You write asking me to come over. Lying on a blanket on his hard wood floor. I quickly devise an excuse to get back to Brooklyn to see you.

I want to kiss you on the escalator after the movies. Your eyes sparkle dark grey. My new man is coming the next day. I know I will love you after he leaves.

And if you’re with someone, after she does.

You write wondering why you haven’t seen me. I look at him on the couch and tell you that Our love will stand the test of time. I think it will, you respond.

Moondog Millionaire
I dream of you
My arms wrapped around you in a pond in the woods after dark
Making out in the back of class
Fucking on top of a vegetable bin at an outdoor market

I’m looking at your scarf. You see me staring. Flashback to a winter night smoking a joint outside a party downtown, light flurries, you’re wearing the scarf. Flashback to you on my bed. I awkwardly compliment your scarf and pants out of the blue. I like your scarf and pants. You say something sarcastic or tell me I’m strange. What I want to say is that I’m no good at communicating when it comes to matters of the heart, that I’m almost paralyzed, and I want you to make a move towards tearing down these walls

I tell you how David Fincher said that in Benjamin Button their love was more defined by their time apart than by their time together. You ask if that’s like our love. I say so far it is so far it is.

Allure; glass

Spent my last ten dollars on wine. Vodka stumbled my steps. The habits that are hard to shake usually make me feel best. Floated around the party alone, hips moving with the beat while I danced past eager men. The night ends early around here. Rain drops touching my cheek, my lips. Sliding down my chest. Thinking I could go home. Leave. Drive to you. I’d like to have you until something deeper comes. And as you kiss my neck, I’m wondering what I came for. Some things are easy. This is easy. It’s like touching the surface of glass. You just touch it. There. Your fingers slide up and down and you are touching so much because it’s clear, it’s easy. You can’t believe it feels so good and you are just touching so much you cannot believe you came.

I came here to touch glass. It’s clear. The drive home will be clear. I’ll think of you, how my eyes went through you. I’ll think of the moments we spent. Stoplights will shake my train of thought. Back to everything I’m waiting for. Everything I’m chasing. I’ll be back to the one who makes me feel best. I’ll be back to that place with the black sand. It’ll be like before. You’ll want to know my safety. I’ll be polite. Speak with softness. I’m safe. I’m okay. I’m sliding up and down, touching so much knowing there are some things I’ll never feel again.

Allure; dance

Tonight is the night I get to touch. I sat in the car and watched a man I once loved all night pack in groceries with his lover. A holiday event. Reminded me of want. A man to hold. Tell a secret to. Make coffee for. Do you like coffee beans? I like to touch them before the grinder. Left hands. A splendor that of Christmas lights. The meeting at my favorite coffee house. Your face as perfect as the summer of last. The summer we danced. The dance we did. Stereo. Sound. Blaring. The thoughts amongst us. We knew each other. Wanted more. Loyalty to others. The coffee house. I remember your words. You taught me patience. Your face. I hope he looks like you. The future. Certain he will not be you. You are everything I love but cannot feel. An intangible caress to my sensitive place below. You are my hands when I yearn a touch.

Allure; rest.

There are memories of us that still make my body tremble. The sort I find hard to explain. Where it feels like someone reached inside and grabbed my heart. Gave it a tight squeeze for three seconds. Suddenly back to beating.

We arrive at your apartment, the cab driver and I. I speak of our homeland. He speaks of my beauty. You walk into my view and I do not feel anything, until I get out of the car and your arms grab me. Close. Maybe it’s been months since we’ve last been together. We’re holding and kissing and maybe I’ve missed you. Before we get to the door, you’re carrying me. A scene from all the movies created in my mind. You always smell the same. Taking you in. Maybe we’ve missed each other. We speak about politics, about your dreams, about your work, about you.

I love you all night. I can feel everything about you. About this trip I’ve taken with you. No one else knows that you are everything you do not want to be. You hold me with distance. I think I love you, you whisper. I continued to love you that night. Haven’t made it back to you since.

Allure; twenty four

I tell people I’m psychic. Those feelings rushed through my body and I just knew you wanted to leave. I rang your phone as soon as I got to work and asked, “Do you want to leave me?”

Oh, this handsome man. I made plans to have sex with him the day before you disappeared. Several calls, emails and instant messaging. You were no where to be found.

We had sex. I thought of you – sparingly. His toned, tan colored body was enough to keep me from wondering if you were with her. He reminded me of home. A foreign man with the same soft, thick texture hair of a boy I loved as a little girl. Every time his hands gripped my searing body and he went inside, I forgot you.