I leaned out of the bubbling water and arched my back against the unyielding once-white rim of the hot tub. I could almost feel the sky soaring up towards me, and I watched intently as steam fell out of my flesh and down into the night air. The tree branches stretched ahead of me felt like parachutes, catching and pulling the wind to guide my landing. I felt like crying. And then I saw the moon.


(Next to me, Sara asked, “Are you okay?” and because I didn’t understand what was going on inside me or outside me, I said I was. That was the first lie, and the first step towards the truth. Years later, marching downtown after exiting at the wrong Metra stop, I shouted, “And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions / that the giving famishes the craving!” I wanted to feel the sky seize up towards me again. I tried so hard that I almost did.)