353 Washington Ave
I remember every time I walked by this house my heart pounded.
My vagina pulsed
And my palms provided swimming pools for the bacteria on my hands
That house
Was cold, drafty and abandoned
It smelled of leftover family memories & drunken young adults.
I was proud to be one of the drunken adults
There I could whine my waist
Be an improper lady
Lay in bed
Drool and have loud fairy tale sex
There was those track lights that dawned the mirror where I changed panties out of my small brown backpack
That mirror held my reflection as my body was pummeled
I developed my sex face there
Those sheets
Must still have rice crumbs from old Chinese food and juices from my aroused body
My black jeans thicken with dog fur
The wet sounds of shower sex still fill my ears
I didn't watch much tv there
I didn't read much books there
I grew not one bit
But my body melted.
My body was exploited all over that place
Riding the G train at dusky hours
Transferring, derailing, deporting for that house
I used to long for it all
Inhale every part
But my body became too tight for fondling
My mind expanded too widely
And my transportation limits became narrow enough that I'd go anywhere for love but lust is just too far away.