0:00
He didn't strike me at first. Truthfully, I thought he was straight
0:03
But then he whispered something in my ear. You're dripping. There was a crack in my glass
0:10
And I looked him in the eyes to say thank you. And they were blue
0:15
A kind of blue I've only seen once in my life. In Haiti. The ocean
0:21
With my dad. This married man was older. Twenty years older. And he was a ginger
0:29
I had a thing for gingers and daddies. We started talking and I learned that he was a writer, a novelist
0:35
A fiction. Queer. With a handlebar mustache. And the text print on his phone was so large
0:42
he could only read one at a time, two if they were short. And he couldn't find his reading glasses
0:49
And he was beautiful. Smart. Dreamy. Fit. Looking at me. Touching my shoulder politely
0:57
Gave me a ride home before rushing off to his husband's drag show. A show where he played all the village people stripping down as he went along
1:04
Wish I could have seen it. I was seeing someone too, I should add
1:10
And we were open. Open to sex. But not to falling in love
1:15
But I fell in love with him. This married man. Carl. And we loved for many weeks in L.A
1:22
A ginger. Haiti ocean eyes. Queer. Novelist. Daddy. We fell in love drinking shitty whiskey listening to folk music
1:33
Under the L.A. liberal American stars. We held each other. She smelled better than she did in my dreams
1:41
The dreams I had of us in America. Of us running a school together
1:47
Building a home. Raising a child. A son. In my dreams, always a son
1:54
One with her humor and intelligence. My pragmatism and strength. She smelled better than my dreams of us all together
2:01
She smelled of... Rose water. Cocoa butter. Baby powder
2:15
Years later, it is a scent I will occasionally get at the airport
2:19
When I pick up a bag, a piece of luggage, I will wonder if it's hers
2:24
What happened to her? What we said when we held each other
2:28
If I told her I loved her, if she told me she loved me, or if we just left, walked silently
2:35
There are memories that happened. And memories I wish happened. I never know which are better or which to let go
