Hiding

Windows open inside a Victorian-era hotel in Fraser. I am with an ex-boyfriend from high school and some other people from my past, mostly boys who've been victims of the system. The hotel is a suite and feels like a house. People come in and out for a cocktail party I'm throwing. Miss Universe from the 90's is there with her baby. She's beautiful, but she's missing an arm and walks with a limp. Her baby looks exactly like her. The suite clears out, but I sense someone is still inside with me. I walk around picking things up, afraid that my ex-boyfriend may try to grab me from behind. He's older now, instead of punk rock t-shirts and a shaved head, he wears glasses and a cardigan. He's creepy. I have to go to work. I'm a news anchor alongside my boss. She does her segment and walks towards me through a dusty room filled with furniture covered in white sheets. She's visibly tired. Her usual red lips are bare. I'm afraid for her to sleep here. If she hides under the sheets they won't find her. The predators are everywhere. I feel them. We can't fall asleep without first hiding our bodies. I think of my ex-boyfriend's poorly constructed sentences from the prison letters he's sent me. I feel sorry for him, that he can't communicate the way he needs to. I want him to find me here in this pile of sheets and at the same time, I'm terrified he will find me here. The alarm goes off. Get up my boss says, it's your turn to be on the show.  

Wet Letter

The actor from The Danish Girl is at a community center pool, which is also an airport. Maybe we are in California. I'm swimming and my friend and former paramour dives into the pool, hands me a letter, it's typed on an old Italian typewriter, an Olivetti. He smoothes the hair over my forehead, kisses my brow. I miss him as he swims away. The actor sits in a lounge chair. I put my hand on his cheek, tell him I prefer to see him dressed up as a girl. He blushes, bows his head.  

The Eyes of Pool Side Swimmers

My former boyfriend is living in his old apartment in Portland, which is also a little of Danang. He's drunk and flipping through pages of Tolstoy. I sink my feet into pale blue carpet and watch as he ties a rubber hose around his arm, a needle in his mouth. He sits in a pool with his friend. Heroin waters the eyes of pool side swimmers. I don't try to stop him. 

Bobbles

I'm dating the new boyfriend from Girls. He's very wrapped up in me and listens to everything I say, wide eyed. We stroll around, hand in hand. We fall in love. Later we are in an auditorium with several kids from high school. They begin telling my boyfriend about all the things I used to do as a kid, how goofy I was and how I used to laugh so hard I'd pee my pants. I hear him laughing and saying bad things about me too. I walk into the auditorium crying. He doesn't move. I tell him I'll bring him his stuff from my place, I'll mail it, he nods his head. Later I'm in Brooklyn under the J train. He approaches me and tries to hold my hand. He says he's sorry and I don't want to forgive him, but I do in a way. We hang out with a trio of British Comedians who flap and chortle in the breeze like paper dolls.