one march my life changed forever. it still feels weird to say, i was supposed to be at work but instead i was on a J train. it feels weird to say, in the motel room he bent over and offered me his cheek to kiss. usually these stories start and end in an airport- but not this time. this one begins on a day in march and it was warm, if i wasn’t so sure i would have stopped believing it by now. i deposited my paycheck on milwaukee avenue and after that i forgot all about it. i don’t mean the check. driving into volvos makes me think of this night, or thunderstorms. law and order flickering on tv as i fall asleep. guess which march this was? look, i always think that anniversaries are going to be special, i am always hoping for a redux, or a reason enough to not go to work in the morning. i decided to kiss him first thing, but my limbs couldn’t follow. inside the car it sounded like a seashell. before that, one march my life was a major chord, like i had never heard one before. what if it had all gone another way, i haven’t stopped trying to imagine it.
another version of myself where i am brave in manhattan, or chain smoking in germany, a rendition of myself that can’t be recognized. my life is just a swamp of memories and sometimes i exhale these ghosts: stumbling down tenth street, leaving my glasses behind, leaving behind my flesh and its history, i left them in illinois, in new york he had never touched me. i don’t mention this on balconies, flicking ashes into a dead potted plant, and i exhale: smoke, what was, heartbreak. i’ll know it was certain if i can’t taste it at all the next day. april comes, or maybe it’s october, it’s always the earth tilting some other direction on its axis, and i have no choice. i should’ve gotten lost with him when i had the chance, except i don’t even believe in such a thing. can we just do it all over again, my finger tracing the interstate on the map, my legs crossed sitting on the barstool, laughing at every joke i’m told?
