Julia, oh Julia

I’m half-ass dressed. 
it’s snowy outside.
you tell me about being seven and wanting more than your parents. 
how your first lover didn’t do it right. 
I say: nobody deserves you, especially me. 

We tangle and sip ciders. 
watch comedies with leading ladies. 
eat fruit medleys.
we’re outside in the sunset. 
i’m vulnerable. 

I tell you about Laura. 
about us sneaking behind Crown BBQ. 
being caught mid laugh. 
stripped down, worked hands taking photos of our muddy bodies shaking in adolescent fear and submission, unable to look each other in the eye, drying up into past tense. 

I hadn’t seen Laura in years. 
then there she was. 
skinnier than youth and customized. 
I followed her home. 
just to see it. 
went three times after that.
i’m at her door. 

I walk you to your car and say goodbye the only way I know how.
Long. 
Slow.

Laura asks to meet for coffee. 
you tell me to go. 
I check my reflection in the napkin holder. 
count all the proof i’ve aged. 

She is twenty-seven minutes late.  
turquoise and crimson colored 
she asks when i realized I like gay sex. 
I tell her I always knew. 

Julia is waiting on the porch. 
the awning juts high, her shoulders curving with the metal in a predatory arch.
I saw you, she says. 
I thought you loved me, she says. 

Julia doesn’t come by for six days. 
on the seventh, I invite Laura over.
they both come, converging in the driveway. 
The last bits of us fizzle and float. 
I want to call out, plead Julia oh Julia!
But, I’m afraid of saying the wrong name during sex. 
I let Laura in.