1. amazed
to wake up and discover
the lack of soreness in shoulders/arms/wrists
day after kayaking
2. atiya in an orange-red dress
rainbow suspendered
kaya in the paint splatters
gold cinched underwear
alex in the arby’s shirt
brian in a sweatshirt
me in black fishnet layered over with hot pink fencenet
3. sweetsmelling cinnamon toast
sopped in egg, milk, etc
best french toast i’ve had in a long time
(first french toast i’ve had in a while)
4. riding my brakes down the upas hill
sun warm on my shoulders and cars
paused at stopsigns below
kaya and alex blocks
ahead of me
5. bubbles pouring out second story windows at
university and richmond
glitter stuck to chisel-chested men
tutus and a million other variations of fabulousness
even if this is san diego
even if 2/3 of this parade is commercial advertising
even if this is home to many a gay-stream
these are still
my people
and i’m such a sucker
for the feeling of coming home
6. mo in the huge pink eyelashes is kind enough to hold the rum
while she muddles mint and lime
for my punch glass of fauxjitos
(not to be confused with mojitos)
7. climbing up on alex’s shoulders
rising 9 feet into air
we cheer
and all of a sudden i’m part 35-year old
and part 6 year old at a fourth of july parade
and we hang in there for a while
me hanging on with my thighs
8. stray boa feathers
stuck to asphalt
next to spills of event promo flyers
framed by metal barricades and caution tape pulled horizontal in the wind
even if it is littered
with trees that never should have been cut down to be turn into flyers that spectators would never take home
there is still a moment of uplift
when car-streets are overtaken by pedestrians
9. three documents received from the archive
two of which
involve red shoes
10. i tell my mom
that even though it’s not true
i could tell people that i don’t drink
in solidarity with my mom who can’t drink
because of her liver condition
and i wonder if my mom has ever heard anyone say that phrase (in solidarity)
in relation to her before
11. regarding brooke’s baby
mom: what is it?
me: what?
mom: a girl or a boy, what did she have?
me: a baby.
mom: what?
me: i don’t believe in that question. it doesn’t leave room for fluidity and spectrums of gender
mom: ohhhh kayyyy, well….
12. backyard perched in slices of afternoon light
hummingbird vibration thunderfluttering past
then a return
we square off
a foot apart
hovering and dipping long beak almost goes in for the nectar
(my eyes? my cheeks?)
i emit some ridiculous sound in self defense
just to let it know
the bright color is a flash shirt
not a sugarsource
seconds later she rises and zooms away
i am tear-stunned
no doubt
it was you kate
detail collector 