September
	Saw you late last night, surrounded by the others. I said hello; your face wrinkles when you smile, as if keeping a secret under your skin. You nodded and kept your distance.
	I was out when you called-I'm always out somewhere. You said hello and no need to call back, just wanted to say hi. Hi. I don't call back for fear I will say more than was intended.


I won't dance with other girls-don't like to get that close. They are nice at times-to borrow perfume, ask an opinion, cling to on drunken walks home. But then they laugh too much, voices too high, as if a sung response should be less threatening. I do it too-we never desire what we see in ourselves.
	You've been writing to me. I haven't replied. Told her she should leave you. "Once I get a job." You have and you haven't.
	Lights out. A moth is trapped somewhere in the room, wings beating desperately for an escape. I won't rescue it.
	

	Rum and coke and 2 AM. "Good morning." Funny without trying to be. Watching you slam down my unfinished drink with heightened disgust-you aren't sixteen anymore.
	Used to get stuck on praying. Years of Catholic upbringing manifested in a single disorder. Hasn't been bad in awhile, but tonight I find myself pressed into a pillow, as if it were yours again. Three times, and I'm finished.


	You said beauty must suffer, but it was easy then. I still have the pictures; too much eyeliner, not enough collarbone. "I'm glad you smiled." So was I.
	Elevators are too obvious. Halfway to your room before I turn around and proceed to bed. You call twenty minutes later; I don't make excuses.
	Always ends in bed. Not sure I would want anyone-last time was no good. You were amazed when I told you-who would have thought. Knew what I was getting into. As do you.