"How are you, son?"
The voice was that of an older relative, a man
and I sparkled like a star for a moment
My dad looked at me and shrugged
"This is one of my girls," he answered.
Inside I felt a meteor hit my heart
I was eight years old
My chest still flat, my body long and lanky
my hair licking at my ears in waves that wanted to be.
Later I lay on my back in the grass and looked down at my body
There was a bump there, I saw it for myself
I let the moonlight hit my eyes and carry me away
"This is what it feels like to kiss a boy," I told her, and the others stared
when I kissed her on the lips, my eyes closed but twinkling
When I opened them again the girls looked away and I did too
scuffed my feet against the floor and bit my lip till it bled
I walked home as if in a trance
On the way
A voice came from under my shoe
"But you're not a boy."
My polka-dot blouse giggled nervously
But later on I took them off
threw them in a heap in the corner of my room
I kept my underpants on
grabbed a sock from my drawer and opened up the blinds
My own venetian eyes drank in the stars outside my window