by Francesca Lia Block & Lilly Barels
I would just stare at him wondering, and I mean wonder-ing.
They should’ve figured it out then. Right then, as I chewed on the tip of the pen.
When we met he was lean and sharp-boned
with raven-feather black hair and hazel eyes.
A drummer, always in motion.
I’d stare at him until he was forced to look away.
I got in the bathtub and wept. My pores oozed grief.
I lost my virginity to him, tugging on the dark curly hairs sprouting from his chest.
When we were together, he’d flirt with everyone all the time.
I was in a constant state of panic
and I lied to everyone.
My mom fed me teriyaki yellowtail and rice and vegetables
from a Japanese restaurant on Ventura blvd.
I’ll tell you more another time.