Houndstooth Hat
I am going to wear the houndstooth hat
you gave me at the airport when I think
of the night we went to eat Chinese food
with my brother and I drove my ex-
boyfriend's van and you were shocked
and appalled at how fake and dark that
woman's tan was.
I am going to wear the houndstooth hat
you gave me when I think of the first time
we hung out and I smoked salvia in the
backseat and laughed a lot then I stuck
my hand in your strange armpit to steal
your heat. (Or maybe it was your heart?)
We wanted to go to the hookah bar, but
then you got really pissed off, so we went
to IHOP or Denny's or Village Inn instead.
My brother slept in your big bed that night,
and we slept on the floor. You and I watched
The Little Mermaid from 1975, and held
hands platonically for a few minutes.
You told me I was surprisingly tactile,
and asked me if I agreed I told you yes
because I couldn't have told you then
that I didn't know what the word meant,
so I just pretended, but I do now though,
in case you're wondering. Seriously.
I do.
I am going to wear the houndstooth hat
you gave me today when I think of the
first time we kissed – we were in a small
patriotic bed in my grandparents' basement
and my brother was obligatorily present
when we touched each other for the first
time and your hands made little earthquakes
on my skin and your kiss was like food
and I never thought I would be so turned
on by another person and you said:
I've always wanted to be this close to you.
I am probably going to smell your houndstooth hat, too,
until every chemical remnant of you is sucked up into my
olfactories, and I'll think of how I like it when you're mean
to me, because my father was mean to me, and because
I like everything that you have and how I wish I could be
addicted to you, but how I won't be able to because I
can't call myself a heroin addict if heroin is the dust on
the moon that makes it white.
I will wear your houndstooth hat in Denver, Colorado,
Phoenix, Arizona, and San Jose, California, and remember
how good it felt to moan when we fucked drunk on your floor
after drinking vodka and eating white rice & I'll also wonder what
other women sound like when they're that drunk and fucked do they
sound like horses? I will think of the different ways I could get to your
apartment on the bus and how peanut butter makes you sick and how
often you seem to need to say, “I'm not gay.” Fasten seatbelt while sedated
what I am trying to say here is: I will be thinking of you a good deal and I hope
that you will be thinking of me, too.
• Andi Kato lives in San Jose, California where she works as a sushi waitress. http://self-intoxication.deviantart.com/ + http://myspace.com/andikato