CATCH BREATH F

Not knowing has a weight.

Of course there's the "anti-weight," the vacuum, of knowing the answer is "no." But is it any worse than the inevitable, shoulders-pressed weight of "yes"? It’s the inevitability that gets you. This weight you carry around, without a recognizable name or signature scent, it makes you worthy of suspicion, a person of interest. You see what I mean.

Not knowing has a weight of indeterminate size and heft. When I asked you to scratch my back that time, and between us, we couldn't find the spot that was "oh yeah, right there, thank Jesus, that's it!" It was the same. So unsatisfying. Effort was made, as it is still.
We both shuffle away, ashamed somehow in our collective ineffectual shapelessness.

Not knowing can be the kind of sexy with too many X's. X's enough to make your randy Aunt L blush a little, though too many, certainly to have shared with your Ma. I make that face you tried to describe once, drawing out the catch breath. And there was that time –remember?—at New Years or Christmas, the winter L died, when we all made fun of her taste in men and back-zip stretch pants and Avon as "the only way to go, sweetheart, so remember I told you." These stories we share make the intimate scraping of uncertainly a little less hungry. We make time with not knowing, drawing out the in. and. the [wait] [wait] out.

Not knowing sat a little too close to me at the Bergen street F train today. I looked down at my red shoes and fingered the hair at the back of the top of my head and wondered yet again if it was possible to grow a cowlick at such a late age. I made mental note to ask you, though no doubt something else will take precedence before I make it home. When I go to tell you 3 days later it won't be relevant or even a little bit funny. Fuck.

"Yes, it was the F."
"Yeah, I know, always the way, right? ... You figure there's got to be someone who was waiting for the G. Must've made their night at least."
"Just past 10."
"Sure, me too, long night."
"Sorry?"
"No, I don't ever finish it. I'm more of a Wednesday gal."
"No, its o.k., I like to chew on it all week. It helps me fall sleep."

Remind me of that the next time I see you.