Freezing In The Sun

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One Response to “Freezing In The Sun”

  1. fatfrannie Says:

    Freezing In The Sun

    January day, 1979.

    The sun pours down on the icebound slate.

    In the Bronx schoolyard,

    We sit across from each other.

    “Why are you smiling?” you ask.

    “Because.”

    My breasts under my winter coat

    heave in and out. I could die right now,

    happy if we touched.

    No matter how many girlfriends you have,

    you never close yourself entirely.

    Your eyes sweep me into wanting.

    Reckless and determined,

    I put out a hand.

    But the hater inside stops me

    cold

    and whispers

    that you don’t like fat women

    anymore.

    2006.

    The hater is dead.

    We have not spoken in years.

    I call your work number,

    found on google,

    and let it ring.

    Your message comes.

    “Hi,” I say, “remember me?”

    I leave my words, but no info.

    The lover in me touches you, finally,

    after all this time,

    as if summoning the winter sun,

    then bows and retreats.

    In phone space it is quiet and cold.

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