Choose

I moved away again.

Opened my heart to love (twice).

Free-fell and then flew into wild infatuation

with the magic of my imagination turned physical.

I’ve never felt so free.

Fried plantain and passionfruit

sit in bowls beside me

and like my lovers and life path-

I get to choose

which to bite into,

which flavor I like best.

Maybe both.

(Maybe one right after the other.)

My grandmother called me last week.

“How is it where you are?”

Her words are brief but the tone underneath always asks more:

“What is it like

to live your own life,

to break so many cycles?”

I tell her only of my gratitude

and keep the grief for my midnight walk.

Suki Waterhouse and Cigarettes after Sex

serenade me.

I’m free, yes.

Bit the plantain, licked the passionfruit.

Took the plane to a new world.

I get to choose.

Fuck, I get to choose.