Talk

This isn't finished.

(About Women's Weekend 2011)

We talk about boys (of course), but not in the giggly way. We share our hurts. Our struggles. Share commonalities that neither of us feel good enough for the honorable ones. We wish we could tell them, anonymously. I am fragile. Treat me this way. I respect this, and this, and this. Tell your brothers.

We talk about women, how we stare each other down walking along the sidewalk. How we always compare.

We talk about poop, puke, and period blood. And in what order do they disgust us. We talk a lot about poop.

We drink cocoa and coffee and tea in small tan cups. constantly. We feed each other funny stories and sad ones,

and laugh and ache.

Some of us cry.

Some of us run off to the bathroom for makeshift tissues.

...to be continued...