They follow me around. Not the sinister
kind, but the looming ones. Every dark
corner I turn toward, every direction I
Run, they sneak in, like dust. Taking shape all
around me, clutching her in Fists, and tell
me of the future she cannot be, and of the past
I cannot escape, from

Maths class, they press me to
her seat. In English, they zip my mouth
Shut. I fight them with every little word,
like ‘No,’ like ‘Queer,’ like ‘Shakespeare.’
I hate…

Today,
I walk to the gym and see Henry holding a girl in his arm.
It was Christine. She’s pretty,
Black locks against smooth cheek.
“Long time no see…”
She hugged me. And
I missed her. Open mic night,
Last Night of the World, she was the
Kim to my Christopher;
seventh grade Once on This Island,
She was the Papa Ge to my Erzulie.

“You guys aren’t dating right? Just making sure…”
“Yea, we are,” said Henry
“Oh, okay. Em. Where… I mean, when did you guys…”
“In Beijing. Last year,” Christine replied.
The sides of her lip lifts sending me
a slight smile, but at the same time she leans
More into his arm.
“Okay, I see.”

I Hate Bo-
ys I hate, dating Gir-
ls I Love.
Stupid, insolent Boys. I hate
them — Sam, Slava, Oscar Kim, Jack Fu…

Them! Robbing
from me Girls I love. Stole
from me
her thoughts
her glances
her love
her

“Girl,” Victoria said to me, “that’s such old news.”
I trembled. Cause I am not… her.
I trembled. Cause I am most certainly her.

I can never. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Never
beat them. Never be (better
than) them. Never
escape them. And never,
Never be me.