women

gifted a lighter

I now possess the generous dregs of a Tokai lighter, which was gifted to me by some women whom I sat near in the amphitheater above Freetown Christiania sort of because they looked ethnic — Indian? One polished and blown out, the other messier, pimply, frizzy tight curls, zaftig, gorgeous — and therefore — I assumed — racist! — right? — cool, and sort of because there was a healthy, suitable-for-sitting space between them and the next folks and eventually asked for a light for my spliff.
You need a lighter, the beautiful, voluptuous, un-orchestrated one said, and I said, I arrived yesterday.
Welcome to Denmark, then, she said, handing it to me in a no-takebacks-type way, and I said, A welcome-to-Denmark gift! Thank you.

on the business of monogamy

On the business of monogamy, et cetera, I am out in the world and see the way—in country after country—national divides be damned—men look at me in spite of being manifestly, obviously with another woman in that moment, and I see the women pretending not to notice…or actually not noticing…or noticing and being mad, or hurt…or noticing and being too tired to care…and I don’t like any of those options. 

I want to only be in things that are sparkling and new and all-consuming.

Unreasonable, I guess. 

Or is it? 

Maybe only if I want to build something over decades instead of just inhabiting a string of moments. 

Scroll to Top