How I felt was like a storm I had never felt before. Like a screaming. Like the sun going down at 6pm every night. Like two sunsets on two beaches with a stone mountain in between. Like Helicopter Island. Like Seven Commandos Island, like island hopping the edge of the earth. Stunned and stricken. Like dancing to reggae. Moving my hips, back and forth. Like sweat.

We ate pizza every night because we could trust pizza. Alcove below our 3rd story window. You wanted it delivered. I was afraid to ask for anything. Even from a waiter. Not because of the island. Because I was afraid to need food or have hunger. I was afraid that if I cared for myself I wouldn’t need you. Now I care for myself so I don’t.

One night we took pizza to the roof where we watched the moon over the ocean. Dangled our feet from the concrete bench, smoked cigars. Drank sprite out of a bottle. I met a different layer of you. I felt dated and out-modeled. Old. The age of women who get cheated on by their men. For the age of women they cheat with.

The day before we left. You bit into the pizza. And removed a pig’s eyelid. One with lashes still attached.

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