Not that I can remember that clearly,

as if it were important to me,

but I think that’s how I felt when we were grinding-

and him, almost-kissing-me.

I felt that spark in my gut of winning

more than my fair share-

of breaking some rule somebody had set out for me.

It was some sort of window to the Europe

I’d been promised-


by housewives who’ve been pining for it since.

I never took myself for a housewife.

I never signed their contracts, willingly

I thought as it was happening that I knew the best way

to always keep myself free.

I didn’t, it turns out,¬†and neither did he.

Does that make him a sucker?


Some days I want to be a sucker too.

And some days I think I’m better.

That’s the danger-

while you’re getting away with something

you never know who might be busy

getting away from you.


Now boarding

I felt like such an adult as I

carefully removed two slices of bread,

two slices of cheese, two slices of ham,

from their respective Ikea ziplock baggies.

The honey-mustard made it, in a little deli packet,

but it was sustenance,

and I had made it,

and I had planned ahead.

Perhaps this was adulthood, I reasoned,

although no one has come up with a definition yet:

getting on trains

watching the countryside

eating your own sandwich

purchasing ziplock bags.

The 18:15 to Valencia Nord

In Valencia I witnessed:

A marathon

Human towers

A formation of dancing girls in the park.

Sword fighting enthusiasts with axes and scythes

A gathering of restauranteurs dressed like priests.

A caravan filming a car commercial

A Valencian beauty queen in traditional garb.

A man on the train with a pink mustache, and a weird smile.

A cat stuck in a window box trying to get out.

Spanish flags

Two gargoyles

A paella the size of a tire

Many fountains,

a Chinese New Year,

and James Cameron’s top grossing film,


The power has gone out in my Spanish apartment

The power has gone out in my Spanish apartment. The lights are off, the cords are not charging anything, the elevator has stalled, and inside the fridge, the strawberries are molding faster by small increments, waiting for small wisps of room-temperature air to seep in.

In the hallways I hear the echoing clangs of dissatisfied Spaniards, opening their doors, stepping into the hallway and finding that there is no one there, who would, perhaps, attend to the problem, and, satisfied in their dissatisfaction, going back inside. I hear them clang again every few minutes. But perhaps they are only looking for neighbors to lament with, as it is our common experience. I admit that I myself voyaged out, barefooted, to stubbornly press the elevator button again and again and see that it did not light up.

Outside it has started raining.

I wonder how many of my neighbors are also awake at almost-midnight, how many besides the dissatisfied Clangers. How many are shocked at the timing of the weather.

When the lights come on, maybe 40 minutes later, it scares me more than the first time.

I tuck myself out of bed and go to check on the ice cream.

Don’t go where I can’t follow

I wanna go where you can’t follow

I want to exist in a vacuum of you

A crying, spinning, heartbreak vacuum-

but still- without you- still-

with me. I barely know who I am by myself anymore

Or who I was before. If I was anyone before,

but maybe that’s the problem.

I can’t wait to be free of you, while I’m missing you,

pining after you and becoming myself.

It’s not your fault, of course,

you couldn’t make me know myself

or not-make-me

You couldn’t stunt or confuse me, you couldn’t

enlighten or save me, you are just you;

who- I love with my whole life. You are

what I wanted when I thought I wanted

a soulmate. And I will miss you. I

just hope that while you’re gone

Something in me might change.