I always wanted to be honest,
have him hear from me about
my interactions with men:
the one at the gas station
who looked at my left hand,
told me I had beautiful
eyes or the waiters at El Charro
talking about my buen culo,
didn’t know I spoke Spanish.
I wouldn’t want him to think
I could keep anything from him.


Every two to three days, she
seemed almost joyful when she
told me tales of men she might
leave me for:  a Lothario with
a Lexus, servers who spoke
her language. A cut in the crease
of my palm, ripped open every
time I would hold it open to her
to hold, would bleed afresh
when she squeezed too tightly.

[1] the environment, or surrounding world as seen by each organism

[2] the bigger reality