< DRAFT 1 >
< final version >
intersectionality
An intersection or an at-grade junction is a junction where two or more roads converge, diverge, meet or cross at the same height
Traffic Signal
I don’t see race when I look into your eyes, but I see race when I see the
curvature of your nose. Do you see my nose?
Feel me. Deeper. Without abandon.
I don't ask you about your race when we first fuck. I do not want to.
But I want to understand how you move through the world and how it confronts you, or lets you through.
I want to see you/me.
I want to learn about racism because I want to/you.
Crosswalk
I want to learn about your bank account. I can share the numbers of mine. The legacy of wealth in your family tree. The working class labor in my own and the inheritance I don’t have. The inheritance you decided to give away at 25. Bones break through blue collar work.
Pedestrian Safety Islands
Can I tell you? Will you delight in my skin and call me (Asian) trash? Will I delight in your skin because you do have?
Corner Radii
I admit how I enjoy my designer jeans. I admit I like you most naked, especially your thick thighs.
Coordinated Signal Timing
I want to learn about Palestine, Gaza, anti-Semitism, war, and trauma because though it is not my own, it is your story.
Your story has become part of mine.
I need to see.
__
I pray to our ancestors that as we kiss, we ease more than the tension of our lips into some softness, but we ease the hurt like the edge of a salve. It does not disappear, this pain, but we recognize it. Sometimes that's enough.
Fixed Signalization
I want to feel you as I cup my fingers there, feel your wetness, and please you.
I want us to sleep together, and dream together, even though nightmares of violence seeps into us.
I want to understand our bodies. Hold me. Dance with me. Press your forehead into mine thorough the night. We snore. We sleep. Oh, I love the way you dance. I love the way your chest feels against mine. I love how your crutches move.
Traffic Control
To keep you safe in the bathrooms. I want to take a can of spray paint and X out all gendered signs. I want to protect you. I walk with you and stay outside the stall. I do.
Buttons
Fuck fatphobia and his rules. I love your belly, I love that you see and lick my fat belly with glee and moans.
Cars, Bicyclists, Pedestrians, and Dogs
Walk with me. Sing with me. Tell me about ableism, curb cuts, street lights, and scent sensitivities.
I want to know.
Red Green Yellow
At the intersection, the lights stop and start differently for you and me.
It is my suspicion that race, gender, sexuality, gender, class, ability, and size shape our worlds differently but
we curl into one another as we sleep,
making sense.
Thank you for seeing me.
I'm intent on seeing you too. I want to.