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| I am still pigeon toed My toes kiss, They share secrets, I am stronger Than the history of our making |
Yesterday I went out with a girl yesterday; it was a pre-date, a get to know you, let's talk about everything from music and art to medicine and being queer.
She sat in the salon drinking mimosas, reading a cheap fashion magazine while I had my nails painted. I marvel at her self-possession. The woman taking care of my claws is young, from the coast, has white blonde hair. As she nods over my hands I see her scalp, it's pink. I am oddly mesmerized by the translucence of her hair.
We talk quietly trade gossip; there has been a rash of people being ruffied and it makes all of us uncomfortable.
Her left forearm is covered in crosshatched scars. She is beautiful. Her eyes are the color of the sea at sunrise, deep grey green blue, iridescent gems. I am awed by her bravery, her eyes, her white hair.
***
I have taken to wearing a corset under my blouse. It is this secret that I have something binding me tight, an absent lover's embrace.
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