At the spa I sweated and fell asleep in salt. My mom would like the spa, I thought. Would your mom like the spa, I asked. At the spa. In eucalyptus steam I bled water like a wrung towel, watched my skin archipelago, an X-man who is just naked and slick and woman at the spa. I wish there were more places for us like the spa, she said. A woman like my mom took her robe off at the spa and stepped into steam with everything showing. Would my mom take her robe off at the spa? I remember her naked in hot springs, before I knew to be embarrassed. At the spa I drank a can of complimentary tomato juice on ice, I took it to a hot stone bed. There were five divided like tombs. I slipped in one, sipped my juice and had a coughing fit. I will be kicked out of this spa, I thought.
The outdoor pool at the spa is heated and overlooks a day club which is just an unheated pool full of drunk people. They are young and pink. At the spa we float and watch like lazy bears full of salmon. We watch them thrash, we are not hungry enough for that, we will just watch. Warm water, at the spa.
I didn’t go to prom, but sometimes my friends are so excited about how uncharacteristically cool I look for a night out that they make me pose for a picture by the door, and maybe these are the pictures I’ll show my kids?
Whittling my tree trunk of thoughts down to rough tumblr figurines and the only one worth sharing right now is
Saturday night I was driving the strip downtown and feeling mushy about the neon monster I live in when I caught the final physics of a Stratosphere jump and it looked like a spider hanging by his silk, debating the climb back up, strong and small and secretly scared.
They say love is when you can be quiet around somebody. They, the council of experienced ghosts. Do they meet in empty conference rooms? Sit in skipped seats at Starbucks, lean over to proofread our emails?
I have been so quiet that all I hear is blood. The wet mechanics of my living. I guess love is a sonar, and when there is no return, it turns inward. Here is a heart that is pumping. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.
My body roars in my pillow like the ocean in a shell. They say, Shhhh. They say, This, too.