New Jersey. The state used to be a punch
line for me, a joke I never thought I’d have to
really get. Oh, but then I had to meet you. From
the place yourself, you educated me
on the specifics. In my mind I’d placed it wrongly
and some fake-fact from childhood still led me to
believe it was an island. Nope. Driving through sleepy
small Montclair you point out old landmarks, and the
new ones, too.
We go to your storage facility. The makeshift-edness
of the place puts me on secret-edge, but I’m with you,
in your land, so all is fine. Winter clothing is extracted
(because guess what’s coming?) and I say goodbye to
the spring/summer clothes, crossing my fingers that
the groundhog misses his shadow.
Ironic to think about now, what spring has brought. The dresses,
sure. But what good are those without affection?
You knew I liked you with or without clothes; I wasn’t picky. I
remember reveling in nakedness with you and we both seemed
so happy. “Seemed” could be a key word, but who would ever know
but you? I like to believe some of you couldn’t lie to me and we
had sincere times. Once a time, I could make you laugh so hard
I couldn’t believe it myself. Because
self doubt has plagued me for my life,
predictably enough. I could get over it with you,
with the winks, and the party kissing, and the late-night
wrestling, and the pet names, road trips, and the reading,
and need I go on? The honesty! That was the biggest.
I couldn’t help but believe, that mostly, you loved me.