January 1st Belated

 i don’t read your horoscopes anymore

aries and taurus so nicely sandwiched

together, i don’t wonder if what you’re gonna 

do will affect me poorly, if i will suffer

from your success

i don’t in anguish read about twin flames

focusing on how often one party does not

marry the other, rather their soulmate

an easier union, lacking the intensity

of the twin flame dynamic

i see your handwriting, and remember

your assistance, how steadfast and sturdy,

you came in quick. an earth sign versed

in serving others as pathway for your own

delight, the delicious feeling of helping,

being needed. and i, all flurry all surge

all “will you help me?!” called out quick,

my talents and power alluring (as she called

me in the dream) you were down to be

beside me, light my candles, tell me

good job.

i didn’t think less of you, rather, saw you

where you were, young and sweet and oh so

generous. your presence was incredibly 

affirming and pleasurable, to snuggle so

closely to an entity so kindred, almost magic,

the once in a lifetime sensation people

talked about, the fateful and explosive

(like fireworks, sparkling ecstatically

and boldly, growing in bursts) we came

together, we taught each other, we cuddled

and laughed and kissed.

you knew what it was to be with women,

i didn’t, i wanted to. you helped me trust 

that i could do it. that i wouldn’t be lost,

that i wouldn’t be a bad lover, novice

at fucking this body echoing mine.

you assured me I was going to be Great,

and i trusted you.

eventually, after you cut your hair

into a mohawk and we shared a bottle

of sparkling rosé at the byob tortilla

factory we went home and fucked,

i remember you took off my blue lace

thong and looked at it, like, 

“this is what we’re doing.”

i liked that you asked me what felt 

the best, and unabashedly asked me

what i wanted you to do, offering

a menu of various techniques.

you had poured us tequila in little

glasses, i wrapped my legs around you

and we started kissing.

we did it all, up and down, 

and afterwards you went to 

your refrigerator and got out

coconut ice cream and fed it to me,

asking me to kiss you in french.

was i a plaything? burning question?

i was ready to go all the way, in my early 30s

and afraid of nothing, newly free from a 

relationship that just wouldn’t do it.

you, at our picnic the next time we connected,

the same wine in tow, said “i’m not ready

to be your life partner,” that you weren’t

in a space to partake in this experiment,

and i, horny and tipsy, was very let down

and insistent for more.

you told me no in the toys store 

when i tried to kiss you by the games,

and then when in the bar, after telling me

you didn’t want to fuck up our precious

vibration, that you’d always slept with all

your girlfriends un the past, i one of the first

members of a sustaining batch, “gigantic”

by the pixies came on, the song accompanying

and central to the first performance of mine

you saw how you stuck incense in your hair,

lit it and let its smoke inform the room 

before i went onstage, you started pressing

your pelvis into mine as we were dancing

and when i called it out, your thrust

and closeness after everything you said,

you exclaimed, “well now i’m turned on!”