This is how John describes me: flaming red hair, cut short like a boy. Green eyes that are often sloshing with tears, especially in moments of intense loneliness. When I stand in my room naked. Jumping a subway turnstile. Slipping on fingerless gloves in the winter. Buying potent acne creams. Petting stranger’s dog with my bare foot — nail polish in green-pink-green-pink pattern. Squared toes. Walking home in the dark, rancid cigarette between my thin lips — lips soft…if I pucker them long enough, I drool. Or walking away from home, singing in the dark, not afraid of silence, but of loneliness. I’m hoping the words will keep me company.