The last time I saw him was last night.
I didn't actually see him, but I saw his silhouette in the car next to me at a stop light.He hides inside tinted windows, but I knew he could see me. It wasn't my car that I was driving, and he was in a different car too. A tan van I've never seen before. Maybe our cars broke down at the same time, and now we've both gotten new ones. With tinted windows.
This was just a few days after I saw an ad in the newspaper that said, Models wanted. I cut it out and made it into art. I cut out a picture of myself then cut out some ears from a magazine and some hair to disguise myself. I hung it on the wall in my room and thought about the time when he waved at me from the window of his old car as he drove by me on the sidewalk. I remember the dress I was wearing, and my black tights and ear muffs which blocked out 85% of every sound.
I thought about what it would be like to live in a disguise.

But sometimes I feel as if I already have one. I knew this was true when I bought a pink cardigan sweater from Goodwill and walked around with it on. This sweater was unusual because it was very big. It was only two dollars, and I thought, if I bought it, maybe it would look different at home. I paid for it in pennies---200 of them. They had collected on the floor of my closet.
And I have been collecting large clothing---hand me downs, new fashionable shirt dresses that are so big they barely touch my skin. That is how they are supposed to fit, they told me.
But I feel so small tonight. I'm sick with a sore throat and headache, but I still went out to roam by myself. It's rainy and overcast. It's dark. It's even dark outside and inside of me.
I was wearing the cardigan, and I knew he was in the back corner of this book store, wearing a hat even though he was inside. I knew this because I saw him, but he didn't see me, so I walked away and paced in the "religion" section. If he had come over to me, there in the "religion" section and put his arms around me, he would have felt my shape underneath my oversized sweater. He would have drawn me to him and pressed the sweater to my skin, and I would have felt warm and I would have felt beautiful. I would have felt wanted.
I would have driven home with the windows down.

I came into the room
and he was there
Painting
the walls, the window was open
And light mixed perfectly with the yellow
He said
Take off your shoes
And they were off--- the furniture had been moved
And we’re barefoot on the tan carpet
He takes the paint and writes
US
On the wall in yellow
I can feel
The carpet under my feet
There’s room to run--- I rub my hand
against the word, and it’s gone
I rub my hand on his arm
And it’s gone
Blended in with the wall, and he spreads
paint through my hair
and splatters it across my face and clothes
And I splatter back
picking up paint and flinging it
soft at first, then harder and harder
Until we cannot see each other any more
And he only sees me against the white of the door
as I walk away to clean up
And go home