I'm with friends from Portland who now live in New York. We're hanging out in a park at night and it feels a little wild, a little foreign like Thai outdoor food pods in Chaing Mai. I'm wearing a long wife beater and glow sticks around my neck. I feel like a whore. My friend looks at me with heated eyes. I think about walking down the street to my grandmother's house in Denver. My friend pulls me in for a kiss. It's sloppy and desperate. He tells me he loves me. I tell him I feel bad about his wife, who is also my friend, kissing him. But I would kiss and love her just the same, I say. His eyes get big. I walk away.
