Deer Tender Heart,

Poetry has been my life raft again & again, both bringing me to life & helping me bring life to others.  My Fucking Tide: Love & Sex is a collection of poems that have been sitting & rooting since 2012, collecting poem kin along the way.  I picked these specific poems to offer you because I am invoking healing through loving my hard-to-deal-with-parts & the magic that has come to me through good sex.  "What is good sex?" you ask?  The kind that left me wrung out & brimming with words.  Healing & magic & sex & coming back to myself seamlessly blend together for me, & these are pieces of that journey.

I am asking for an energy exchange in sharing this work, a donation of $10, $15, or $20.  This collection holds 10 poems about love & sex & the magic in between.  Please consider gifting yourself or your loves this bundle of femme healing, femme celebration, femme magic.  All proceeds go to keeping me here & alive.

I wrote The Nth Generation of Queer Brown Femmes: an invocation, one of the poems in this collection, while I lived in a magical place called the Baberation.  We were / are a plethora of queer brown femmes who were / are still trying to figure shit out.  One of the things I love(d) about the Baberation was that it was an old nunnery, & I spent many nights talking to the homo angels & queer femme ancestors that still resided in that building.  I wrote this poem during these long conversations with myself & the Femmeiverse because I wanted an invocation of protection to combat what we were surviving & what was still yet to come.  I hope it does something similar for you, deer one.

​sweet strong merciful Femme Ancestors,
we ask for your presence
in our everyday ceremonies & rituals
as we find ways to love & survive,
for your protection & guidance
as we heed our heart’s desires,
& for your help clearing that which doesn't
get the fuck out of our way.
​afemme.

This protection spell is a bonus poem not included in my original collection because it is very new.  I wrote it in response to the fuckery I survive on the daily.  I wrote it to let the Femmeriverse I am having none of it.  I wrote it to send all the cowardly hearts their fucked up energy back.  I wrote it to name what happens to me.  I wrote it as a warning not to do this shit to me, because there will be consequences.  There should be.  You cannot fuck over holy fucking femmes anymore.

every stone you threw at this precious femme body hurt. a lot. but not as much as it will when you burn your own shit to the ground & everything beneath your skin comes to a boil. & those lies you threw about with whispers will lay you bare, char & smolder your new shame. good luck with that. this is what happens when you're hasty with a femme witch hunt. you will only have yourselves to blame because you already killed me. & if you ever dare tongue my name to the roof of your blistering mouth, my two syllables will turn again to white hot coals. so don't.

  My Fucking Tide: Love & Sex includes the following poems:

• ​The Nth Generation of Queer Brown Femmes
• Don't Fuck With Our Ancestors
• I Am
• Today I Will Fall in Love With Myself
• I Found God in Your Eyeliner
• Holiness of You
• Tender Topping
• After I Topped La Luna in a Pencil Skirt
• Quench 
• Tide

To get a pdf copy for yourself, your bestie, your femme crush, your roommate, your queer fam, make sure to note which email I can send this blessed collection of poems to when you make your donation.  Sometimes the Paypal email & people's everyday email that they actually read are not the same, & I just wanna make sure you receive this gift!  Actually, now that I am poking around, I am not sure if you can make a note, but if you would like the poems sent to an email other than the one listed in your Paypal info, please send me another email to [email protected] telling me where to send it.  lol I hope this hasn't just become confusing.  Either way, you will get your poems!

All my love in the meantime,
​Dacia (Lettie)

is this mercury+ retrograde situation fucking you up a bit?  are you having hard time breathing, conjuring, sleeping, doing basic self care shit?  deer one, you are not alone!  here is an old tried & true recipe / spell i wrote for just this kinda thing.  i hope it can help.  

​i hope you keep breathing & releasing & telling yourself that only the sweetest & most tender get to take up space in the voids left open.  i hope pluto churns that deep soul soil & you uncover treasures you maybe thought were gone forever.  i hope jupiter direct helps you channel energies & efforts into your money & overall abundance.  i hope some of the repeating chapters in our lives finally meet their closing sentences.  

i hope, i hope, i dare hope.  

ingredients*

• eyeshadow (doesn't have to be your discontinued fave)
• glitter
• some of your own hair
• flowers
• 2 big leaves or a few pages out of your favorite book or a big magazine picture you like
• a stirring stick
•  a mixing cup
• a list of 12 of your favorite words
• 4 words you love that start with the letter of your first name
• 4 words you love that start with the first letter of the name of the one who did the breaking
• liquid--tears, water, tea, tinctures, oils will do just fine
• *add whatever you feel connected to, leave out shit you don't

instructions
mix the words together in your mouth with tongue as stirring stick.  mix the above ingredients together with the stirring stick.  pour everything into a body water nearby, if accessible.  if not, flush that shit down the toilet.  keep all the sweetness & tenderness for yourself.  let the rest go.  

for today's brew, i am going to use the letters D & M.

word lists
12 favorite words: cunt, heart, ocean, moon, dae, femme, wing, fuck, open, undulate, round, clock.
4 words for D: dancing, direct, doom, don't fuck with me.
4 words for M: magic, mermaid, miracle, match

completed spell
cunt heart ocean dancing magic
dae femme wing direct mermaid
wing fuck open doom miracle
open undulate round clock don't fuck with me match

use this spell whenever the fuck you want for whatever the fuck you want.  this is your magic.

one.
make me some soup
juice me some juice
invite me over for tea
bake me some lavender lemon bars
make me breakfast
& all the mashed potatoes with
your best gravy
 
two.
babysit my kid
not because i have to do something
like work
but just because ya know
i can’t get a free moment
to save my life
& ya know
ya wanna save my life
 
three.
& while we’re on the subject of my
baby panda
love them
tell them all the good things
you feel & know in them
listen to them go on & on
about minecraft & pandas & Pokémon
& ask them questions
so they know you are paying attention
 
four.
share your favorite poems with me
bonus points
if they’re ones i wrote
bonus points
if you read them to me
bonus points
if we are in a bed
with cozy soft things
& fluffy pillows
 
five.
hold me when i cry
ask me first
k
& when i say yes
hold me when i cry
help me hold & carry
my sads
my grief
my never ending feels
hold me when i cry
 
six.
hold space for my anger
cuz if ya know me
ya know there’s lots of
fucked up things that happen to me
let my rage live
 
seven.
tell me:
it’s not your fault
i love you
you didn’t do anything wrong
you are doing everything right
i acknowledge your sad
i acknowledge your angry
i am grateful you are still here
 
eight.
tell me the truth
write me love letters
protect me
acknowledge how you’ve let me be hurt
& how you’re gonna protect my vulnerable
tell me:
boo, you are not too much
 
nine.
& then write a poem about how
nobody ever tells the
milk way
hey, ya got too many stars!
& how nobody’s ever mad at the ocean
for crashing into the rocks
or for turning glass into smooth
handheld treasures
 
ten.
extend home invitations
gift me lipsticks &
high pigment eyeshadow
paint my nails
draw me a picture
adorn me with glitter &
consensual kisses
 
eleven.
believe in me
believe in me
believe in me
 
twelve.
fight for me
fight for me
fight for me
 
thirteen.
love me
love me
love me

Hello lovelies!  

Panda & have made it to the East Coast, somewhere I hadn't really ever considered, but then the Femmeiverse brought all the signs from lots of people I trust.  By the grace of femmes, we are currently housed & fed, & but we still need some financial support for essentials.

We left everything in Salt Lake, & only brought 4 suitcases worth of clothes, books, & shoes, which isn't a lot.  I also had to borrow $500 through a payday loan to get us out, & my grace period has run out.  Over the weekend, my bank account was emptied due to fees & such because I could not pay the whole amount.  Fuck.    

Please consider donating to my paypal ([email protected]) or to our YOUCARING!  I'm also offering tarot reading classes along with tarot readings & other spiritual guidance that you can book through High Moon Femme Tarot.  

I'm grateful for the work of supporting so many as a community femme healer, but I also want to stress how much I would also appreciate your generosity if you have enough to just give.  I am a single parent with almost no support from my family-of-origin because of trauma & abuse, & I work so hard everyday to keep myself & Panda here, alive, soft & open.  This is so much for one person to do on a daily basis.   

I got a new part time job last Friday that starts this week, but it'll be a few weeks before I get paid.  In the meantime, I've got food for this week, but will definitely be getting creative by Wednesday, & I don't want to wait until there's not a lot left before asking for support.  I've officially been here long enough to begin applying for assistance, which I am, but that always takes time & lots of emotional energy.  

In addition to funds for food, we also need money for transportation; an eventual coat; a few clothing basics for Panda with the cold weather; an eventual bed & blankets; paying off the payday loan, & finally, to help with maintenance related costs for High Moon Femme Tarot.  This is very important because this has been our main source of income since moving here.

Thank you so much for reading & sharing with you friends, fam, & community members!  

xoxo
​Lettie & Panda Pie

ACT 1
 
morning:  two femmes are sitting on the same on opposite ends of an L-shaped couch.  one is on a laptop, the other is putting on makeup.
 
l:  do you have amazon prime?  you did when you were in college, right?
L:  yes, i did.  & yes, i do.  & no, you cannot use it.
l:  i didn’t ask.
L:  but you’re gonna.
l:  who else am i gonna ask?  c’mon i need to know if this is the dress.
L:  if it is & you don’t get it?...
l:  it won’t matter.  i’ll still--
L: —don’t say it.
l:  i have to.  i want to. 
L:  not now.  not today.
l:  it’ll be ok.  you’ll be ok!
L:  just not today.
l:  fine. not today.
 
 
ACT 2
 
mid day:  L is putting on makeup in their room, next to a window for natural light.  their back is to the door, & to l when they walk in.
 
l:  guess what?  my dress came!
L:  i don’t care.
l:  wanna see? 
L:  i don’t care.
l:  it’s super cute!
L:  i don’t care.
l:  can i show you?
L:  i’ll see it anyways.  isn’t it, like, bad luck to see you in it before­­--
l: —i’m not getting married.  i’m--
L: — don’t.  say it.
l:  you’re gonna know everything anyways.  you’ll understand then.  hopefully.
L:  hopefully?  hopefully?  that’s all you’ve got for me?  hopefully.  i wait my whole life for me to make sense—i pray, i cry, i surrender, i write, i cast spells & conjure & tarot, & finally i leave that fucking city, i get sick, really sick, & when i start coming back to life, i find you.  My Guardian, The One Who Knows--
l: —i know.
L:  no you don’t!
l:  but i do!  i loved you as you searched & faltered & hovered near death for years.  i loved you as you healed & conjured & opened that whale-belly-to-the-bottom-of-the-ocean heart of yours.  & i loved you the whole time, hoping you would find me, but knowing when you did, it wouldn’t last.  it can’t.  i have to die so you can do all the things we were meant to do.
L:  what if i don’t want to do “all the things we were meant to do”?  it hurts!  sure, iget it, there’s been a futility to you love, but you’ve had time.  i don’t get time.  it’s been so nice, being able to talk with someone, another body, having another person love me, hug me, another voice, not just my voice that says, “yeah, that’s fucked up!”  & what is it i’m supposed to do?  healing feels like a lot of fucked up shit happening & just witnessing, not stopping any of it!  i don’t want this, these feelings i don’t know what to fucking do with!  fuck you.  fuck you for loving me, & fuck you for leaving me, just like everyone always does.  get out of my room.
 

ACT 3
 
night:  l is in their room, sitting, laying tarot cards out on their bed.  candles are burning.
 
L knocks on l’s door.
 
l:  go away, please.
 
L knocks again, more forcefully.

l:  fine.
L:  i can’t stop thinking of you.
l:  let it go.
L:  but i can’t.  there has to be another way.
l:  there’s not.  this is what i’m supposed to do.  i’m not scared.  i’ll miss you, but i’m not scared.
L:  how?  tell me how you’re not scared.  help me through this last thing before you…before you die.
l:  you said it.  you let it be true. 
 
they both laugh & cry at the same time.
 
L:  what helps you smile when you know you’re leaving me?
l:  i can’t see or know very far, like, they don’t let me, but your heart does.  that beautiful heart you call a whale heart.  if you ever need me, or need instructions, dive, baby.  dive as far as you dare, then dive til you bump against the ocean bottom, & i will be there.  they won’t let me say much more because i’m already holding so much, but i can tell you it’s better than what you’ve seen or imagined.  just keep breathing, keep loving, even when nothing makes sense.  & always start with you.
L:  fuck, i knew that.
 
they both laugh.
 
l:  but you needed to hear it one last time.  or, rather, i needed to tell you one last time.
L:  so tell me, how can i help you finish getting ready?
l:  wanna see my new dress?
L:  yes!  & i totally know you used my account!
l:  it’ll help you justify keeping it!
L:  lemme me see it!  i bet it looks cuter in person!
 
l leaves to put on the dress & comes back wearing it.
 
l:  i love the drama of black lace, & it was half off!
L:  shoes?
l:  bare feet.
L:  pedicure?
l:  fuck yes.
L:  color:
l:  hot pink.
L:  perfect!  i think i’ve got a bottle in my bag!  can i paint your toes?
l:  yes!  that’s exactly what i need.
 
L rummages around in their bag, but it’s so full of stuff they can’t find it immediately.
 
L:  i have so much shit in here, hold on a sec…
 
L dumps everything out onto a table with their back turned to l.
 
l:  you’re so sweet.  i love you.
L:  i love you, too. 
 
L turns around with the polish in hand & realizes l is gone.  A breeze moves through the room, & the candles & lights go out at the same time.

trusting this story to be enough was a process.  i know that i am a only a vessel, & that most often my only job is to tell the story as it comes through, but it is still so hard to trust it.  i want to make sure every story that comes through me is not only the best, but perfect.  & this is where i can become stuck.

at the tender age of 32, i am still trying to undue the writing fuckery i've survived in a variety of writing environments, laying to rest all the ways i've been misunderstood & all the unhelpful but supposed to be helpful comments from people who will never know me.  i do this by telling myself that these stories want & need to be told, that they chose me as their conduit because i have the specific skill set required for such a task.  & as much as i want my stories to always be held, always be loved, always be cherished, i have no actual control over any of this.  but, what i can do, & what i must do, is trust that these stories are enough, that some canonical version of perfection is not required, & that we, my stories & i, get to take up space in this world.

it is with this understanding that grants me peace in saying that i will not tell you what this story is supposed to be about (at least for now), because i want it to live inside of you in the ways it calls to you.  your relationship to this story is between you & this story, & for me to come in & pretend like i can know anything about that is false.
what i will tell you is that this story is about whatever it is to be for you, that your connection to it is real.  if it has found you, you were both calling for each other, & the femmeiverse loves us all.  

my deepest hope is this story will continue to loved & cherished & bring life, long after i've sent it into the world.   

Lettie Laughter is a talented & powerful healer, here to serve their communities near & far.  Lettie is also in debt & needs help as they regroup from moving across the country with their 10-year-old kiddo.  
They need funds for necessities such as transportation to school & work, a steady stream of food, the phone bill, small business costs for High Moon Femme Tarot, a $500 loan to get out of SLC, a bed, blankets, pillows, & new clothes for Panda.

​You can support their work by donating to their YOUCARING fundraiser, booking a tarot reading with them at High Moon Femme Tarot, or promoting their work!  Please practice community care & help if you can, all love & support is deeply needed & appreciated! ​

​good morning from my third official week on the east coast.

when i was leaving // fleeing salt lake three weeks & 1 day ago, i could not have foreseen this.  that last week in salt lake was brutal.  it was feeling like every tendril of survival i had ever stitched together was rapidly falling apart.

i had been living with my parents for almost two & a half months, & every week i saw my therapist, she was like, "Is there anywhere else you can go?  I'm so worried about you.  I'm worried you're not actually going to get out.  So much of your energy is spent trying to survive the day to day, I don't know if you understand that."  she was right.  those last few days i was there, it became astoundingly & painfully clear.

living with my parents again helped me understand myself, helped me understand how i chose substances as escape as self care as survival, & how it really did keep me alive.  i was able to meet these parts of me & grieve & forgive & offer compassion & gentleness.  i also gained insight as to how i have been gaslighted & abused almost my whole up bringing, & definitely into my adulthood, & how this caused me to doubt everything i know to be true.

while living with them, it was acceptable for me to be interrogated about choices that i make for myself & Panda Pie, for these interrogations to have no purpose other than for me to internalize that i am incompetent & irresponsible, that i don't have a fucking clue about anything.  

what is really upsetting is that that these abusive episodes were ultimately supposed to be a show of love, their love.  but it felt nothing like the love i have nourishing & growing since i left their house.  instead, it felt like they were uprooting everything i had spent years growing, & it was so painful & confusing, & it worked.  i began believing that i was shit, that i was a failure, & maybe i don't know anything about anything after all.

it was also terrifying to realize how this pattern of manipulations has played out in my most significant intimate partnerships, to acknowledge that almost all of my abuse has started out as me searching for love & someone offering that love to me.  love.  how terrible for everyone to have cloaked their abuse to me as love.  no wonder so many violences felt like home.

as the sky turned light blue & orange, i finished the last of my cramming, & decided how i wanted to show up for this grand date with destiny.  i kept out my new purple dress, my boots, that wouldn't fit, & a few pieces of jewelry & hand held stones (amazonite for heart & the smokey quartz i used to help both my grandmothers die).  intermittently, as the sun rose, i went outside & prayed for ease, to get on that plane, to have the strength to leave  i also made the call to put on a full, sobbing-friendly, face, with black lips for my mourning.  i have come to love how makeup is an art that conveys so much without a single word.

in the end, i cried & cried & cried.  i didn't get to see most of my deerest friends, didn't get to eat at my favorite place, didn't feel complete in my goodbyes.  i was also heartbroken about my parents & felt like a bad child.  i had to call my friend when i felt i might falter, confessing what a bad child i was, but was reminded that it wasn't me that was bad--i was only trying to stay alive, to leave, no matter what.  

i didn't want to leave my sibling, i didn't want to leave my femmeily, & i was angry.  angry that the majority of my community, the people i loved & opened my precious heart to, never learned to love me in ways that would keep me there.  that they betrayed me, again & again, & that it would probably never stop, only change shape instead, setting me up for deep grief & disappointment.  nothing about this felt fair.

we barely made our flight because our departure coincided with a big conference that had ended, & everywhere were lines lines lines.  we half walked half jogged to the terminal, Panda in charge of their backpack, pulling a carryon, their coat, & their babies, me carrying my shoes, another carryon, hauling my backpack, purse with snacks & documents, & a few Panda pillow-babies.  we got to the terminal just as they were calling standby, & we boarded.  

after pleading & begging someone to change their seat so we could sit together (because apparently i had to fight to the bitter end), i remembered that the ones we were leaving wanted a text to make sure we made it.  so i obliged & sent out this beauty:

& thus, the next part of our journey began.

i realize now that i'm going to need to write about this in more than one piece, & that means for now this is going to feel unfinished, but this is already so much for me.  i really wanted to write about how growing a new life & new self feels, but this needs to come first.  because this is also part of the process of growing new things.  nothing just appears, i should know that.  this is how i am eating death to bring life.    

deer lettie,
thank you for showing up & carrying me through, for all the things that made me possible--this is how we survived & fought & won.  i love you, & we are doing everything right.  i trust you.  
xoxo
future ancestor lettie

Lettie Laughter is a talented & powerful healer, here to serve their communities near & far.  Lettie is also in debt & needs help as a single mama getting things taken care of, like: transportation to school & future work, a steady stream of food, the phone bill, small business costs for High Moon Femme Tarot, a $500 loan to get out of SLC, a bed, blankets, pillows, & new clothes for Panda.

​You can support their work by donating to their YOUCARING fundraiser, booking a tarot reading with them at High Moon Femme Tarot, or promoting their work.  Please practice community care & help if you can, all love & support is deeply needed & appreciated! 

i thought i knew ten-year-old Lettie, but what i knew better than her was how to bandaid her hurt.  i am versed in traveling back to baby Lettie, jumping through portals in church walls, covering our ears, & taking us away,  but not with 10-year-old Lettie. 
 
10 year-old Lettie was so sad.  once, i tried to run away but didn’t because there was no where to go.  that was also when i began pulling my hair out, one by one, fingers searching for the base of course, thick roots.  i did it more than i meant to, & was not conscious of how this affected my appearance.  i only knew it was something bad because of my mother’s shame. 
 
in order to search for another route to my root, i need to travel back to the night i tried to run away but had nowhere to go, to be standing at the window when 10-year-old Lettie walked back into our room while mom was crying in the bathroom going through our runaway back pack. 
 
“Hi, baby.  I’m Lettie.  I’m future us.”
 
I don’t know why I wasn’t scared of someone new in my room standing by the window, but I wasn’t.  I felt hungry & satiated at the same time. 
 
“Hi.  Lettie?  I’m not Lettie though, I’m—“
“—Dacia.”
“Why do you call yourself Lettie, but you’re supposed to be me?”
“Uh, yeah.  I can understand how that is confusing.  Am I scaring you?”
“No.”
“Ok, good.”
“If you’re future me, can you prove it?”
“Yes, I can,” I laughed.  “Your mom is in the bathroom going through the pink & teal backpack you packed to run away with.  But you have nowhere to go—“
“—but I have thought of a place.”
“The carport?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, you don’t wanna sleep there.  Besides, I wanna take you with me.”
“How do I know who you are again?”
“Can I hug you?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, maybe hold your hand?  Shake your hand?  I’ve never done this before, but I have a feeling if we touch, something will happen.”
“Ok.  I’ll touch the back of your hand.”
“Cool.  Maybe we should sit down, too.”
“Yeah.”
 
& when she/I touched me/us, our arms flushed where I had brought blood to the surface earlier that evening with distress & dragging my nails across my forearm.  & then other scars began to match.  I brought my hand back before too many lit up.
 
“Sorry.  I didn’t know that’s what was gonna happen.  Are you ok?”
“Yeah.  Is it weird that I trust you because our pains match?"
“It makes sense to me you would trust pain.  There’s a lot of it for you right now.”
 
We began to cry.
 
“Can I take you somewhere?”
“Yes.  Take me.”
 
I opened a portal on the west wall where our ballerina toe pointe shoe with the matching pink rose & matching pink frame picture hung.  I knew exactly where to take us.

Lettie Laughter is an nth generation community healer & orator, indigenous femme single mama, & brand new east coast resident.  

They are still raising funds $$$ for this brand new life, because all they brought were 4 suitcases worth of clothes, books, shoes, journals, makeup, & stuffed animal babies.  They need everything else from a bed & bedding to food & money for transportation, for both them & their 10-year-old kiddo.  

If Lettie's words of healing & magic have ever brought clarity or comfort, please consider supporting them in this life.  You can support through donating to their Paypal or their Youcaring, or by booking a tarot reading of your own!  All pertinent info is available on this website.  XOXO  ​

in the beginning, i only knew you loved me in your absence.  later, you confirmed to me that you spent whole afternoons crying alone, promising to come clean to me.  i never asked when it was you first knew you loved me more than we put on.  i always thought i had more time because i always think i have more time.  for anyone who ever wants to reduce me to pessimism: fuck you.  

i only started to feel the sting of your withdrawals a few years ago.  there was this one fall late afternoon turned evening when you were catching me up on your happenings while you were away, & i knew all my intuitions were true.  

as we perched half in & half out of the couch that eats you, you told me of the game you (probably still) play(ed) everyday, & how the husband of your character died, & then of how this woman began to spend time at the community center where she met a friend.  some time later, when she would hang out with this friend, who was also a woman, hearts began appearing.  though the game you play(ed) did not allow them to get married, which is usually where the hearts led to, you made it so they could live together.  

this made everyone happy.  the quality of their collective lives improved.

you looked slightly embarrassed & slightly invigorated as you relayed this story to me.  

all i wanted to know was, “does your husband have to die for you to be with me, too?”  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

the snowless December night you confessed you liked me-liked me, we stood outside my house smoking.  you had been drinking a little.  not my preference as far as confessional revelations go, but whatever.  i asked you why you were giving someone i was sweet with such a hard time about not calling me when she said she would.  

you weren’t this hard on e! i teased, knowing well why.  the fact that someone was saying, “i love you” in return gave me a bolster of confidence.  

i had promised myself that i would never say it first.  not to you.  you are married. 
 
i had resolved to carry this love for you inside forever because you were my best friend, & i wanted all the silly pie making, apron wearing, tincture conjuring dreams of when we’re 40 to come true.  i was making good on this promise.

you wanna know the truth?! [you smiled.]  
yes.  [i smiled back.]
the truth truth?
yes.
well, the truth is…
[& then our friend erupted from the bright blue front door to say she was leaving & good night.  we all hugged & then we were alone.  again.]

so, you were about to tell me the truth.
i was?  [laughs & smiles.]
yes, you were.
& then with all the blasé she could muster:
i think we all know i’d be with you if i weren’t married to ------.
you finally said it!  [i couldn’t help but laugh a bit.]
you knew?! [with fake incredulousness.]
yeah!  but i wasn’t gonna say anything!  everyone knows!  so & so asked me last year about it!
they know?

as the moon & stars as my witness, i swear to Pluto this is true.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

two-ish weeks later, we flirted deliberately for the first & last time, something like a falling star or meteor that turns to vapor in the atmosphere.  everyone was over at my house, & we had just had dinner.  you got off work early to everyone’s surprise & my delight.  

as ------ & everyone else convened in the other living room, we sat alone on the long olive couch, next to each other.  You were telling me how you were bursting to tell 
------ how you felt about me.

…not tonight, though!  you’ve been drinking & it’s late.
i know, i know.  not tonight.  but soon.  do you want me to give you some kind of signal?
yes.  in case i have to prepare for anything.

i wish i could remember what led up to the two flirty comments we offered at each other’s feet, but i can’t.  what i do remember is that we were talking about something & laughing, & she began to blush.

you’re blushing! [more giggles.]
& then the softest pause.
i like it when you make me blush. [more blushing.]
i like to make you blush.

when i remember that exchange, it feels like it the closest thing we will ever get to a non-your-birthday kiss.   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

within a month, you sent the signal through text:
i’ve opened a can of worms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

two out of the last three birthdays you’ve kissed me.  

the first year was a complete surprise because you didn’t ask.  it was your 33rd birthday, & we were standing outside in your old courtyard, smokinglaughingtalking, & you kissed me on the mouth.  then you did it again.  

that was when i knew i liked you-liked you.  

i’ve had friendships where we kiss on the cheek &/or lips to greet & farewell each other, but that was not us.  there was an urgency to your kisses that year that my lips remember.

the second birthday kiss you gave me was this past pisces march.  you were wine drunk on an almost empty stomach.  

i can’t remember if we asked for someone to take our picture or if someone asked to take our picture, but we posed & you kissed the side of my face in your kitchen.  you held the kiss so long i felt your mustache whiskers tickle my face.  

you held the kiss so long by the time our friend took the picture, i was all beam.  i was wearing my OMG rhinestone necklace, & that was kinda how i felt.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Deer Future Ancestor Lettie, i now understand that if i’m surveying for proof of how much someone might like or love me, that that is a problem.  at that point i should probs pick up my sweet ass & get the fuck out, or at the very least, stay away.  

[i just did a deep sigh as i reread that, which usually means that something is so very true.  my body agrees.]  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 i’ve gotta save myself from the memory of you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

the day you sent me that terrible robot message, i became an ocean.  wild & uncontrollable with the potential to drown everything & everyone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
there were so many signs i ignored.
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