Toothpaste

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I guess she shaped something about me. She used three kinds of toothpaste at the same time. We were brushing our teeth together and I was done before she even finished lining up little pea sized dots on her toothbrush. I thought: Do I brush my teeth too fast? Does she think I’m dirty? But I felt infinite, watching her hands. I want to ask her if she still does it that way.

She used to wear boxers to bed. I wanted to sleep next to her, so I slept on the floor.

These days she writes about strangers, male lovers, and home. I think of her when I listen to music. When I swim, I think about that day in the pool when I felt alone because she was there. Or, climbing the ladder up to the treehouse her dad built. I felt closest to her, that one night, under those fairy lights, cross legged under a kid-sized roof. We slept side-by-side, her feet by my head.

The thing is, we never had nicknames for each other, couldn’t ever think of any. But we had Oklahoma together.

I sat behind her in history, next to her in art. I wanted to see her, from the first time I looked at her from across the room. I saw a video of her, and she wore earrings like I do. I’ve had this feeling for like a decade and I’m only 22. 

She said she liked me too. I think about her still and she pops up all around me. Forget the third dimension, she’s in a long memory.

The first time I left her, I stared at the ceiling, listened to music she liked. We stalked each other like tigers, neon and camouflaged and watching each other. A few years later, I told her I’d never not love her. Then I left her again. Probably, she wanted me to.

The last time I talked to her, she was drinking a Tangerine LaCroix. Now, don’t get it twisted, I liked soda water well before, but the LaCroix was a new thing. I drank a lot of it for a while.

I saw her with red ink tattoos. That’s a careful choice, cool as she is. I have black ink, thick lines.