I look down then at the poem I am writing in purple crayon. I know it is my job to break the silence. “Maybe my Virgo Venus is the reason I’m still a virgin.” Laughter escapes her lips just then when she realizes this is not a serious conversation for me to hold. 

I put down my purple crayon. We had stopped here, at the girl named after a flower’s apartment, with the purpose to go strip and smoke on the city roof naked.

 When I told my girls about it the next morning, they had said “They would’ve stopped me from doing that if they had been there.” 

I thought ‘Good you weren’t then.’ but instead asked “Why?” 

“The people in the other apartments. They would’ve seen.” 

“So what?” 

“What do you mean so what?” 

“I mean so what” holding back my laughter. 

My girls just shake their heads.

You have to admit, it’s kind of funny. The girl who hasn’t yet, laying naked on a rooftop downtown. ‘You can look but you can’t touch.’

Honestly, when I had agreed to it, the thought of the other people in the other buildings had not even crossed my mind. I had just wanted to go up there with them. I wanted to feel the coldness on my skin and bare chest. The contrast of the cold with the warmth of the joint and the laughter of these women. I wasn’t thinking about the other people looking, I was thinking of myself. 

 I am not a Nun. When you are able to live in two contrasting ways people start looking.

I have had the opportunity. I have chosen not to. When I was younger, I thought as long as I felt comfortable with that person it would be okay. As the opportunities came and the years passed, I realized I wouldn’t be comfortable unless I felt loved. I want love. Someone you can breathe with. I’ve noticed my friends say it’s best, with a partner, when you can laugh together. An uncluttered laugh that escapes naturally. That hasn’t happened yet, so I will continue on in my life until it does. I was ashamed to admit that I wanted love for a long time. I am not anymore. 

That has nothing to do with astrology, and everything to do with being human. We all want love. Most of us won’t admit to that, why? 

We are sitting at the table by the bay windows, and a singular lantern hangs above us. I can’t imagine how they put it up there. They probably had to stand on the table, maybe fashion a lasso. These ceilings are some of the tallest I’ve seen.

At the table; we all sit smoking, talking, and drawing. A Gil-Scott song plays in the background. I look behind me towards the sound, towards the rest of their apartment. They have a red hallway. The red hallway and coloring remind me of a man’s apartment I would visit freshman year. He had a red accent wall in the living room and people coloring with crayons all over the walls of another. I remember I had seen a pocket book of poems, the “Howl” one by Allen Ginsberg. I had picked up a purple crayon and drew flowers on the wall above it. ‘Does the girl named after the flower know him?’ I wonder.

These girls have given me a lot. They have kissed me on the cheek the way a drunk Aunt does. Too often do we find that to be feminine we must uphold the masculine. Too often do we wear a color not because of the color itself but because of how the color looks on us. If you like the color, wear the color. Wear the color despite what the color does for your complexion. Be a woman without the ideal of a man.

These women have taught me that. To live naked and afraid, and laugh in the face of those who stare. To not just conflict with the standard but to better yet forget the standard altogether. 

We have moved closer to the door to grab our things. 

And the one traveling home with me is playing with the uncooked yam we call “Aunt Petunia”. 

Someone has picked her up. They are cradling her, cooing.

“Poor Aunt Petunia, always lying down on bed rest.”

“Poor Aunt Petunia, pregnant with little yams.”

“I love Aunt Petunia.” 

“I love Aunt Petunia more!” 

We are laughing and putting on our shoes. I am wearing my longest coat tonight, and as it trails down the stairs after me I will find myself tripping and laughing more.

 I had only known them a few hours. It’s funny how much you can learn in a few hours when traveling with a different crowd. 

There is this threshold I reach within all of my newfound relationships. ‘Do I let them in?’ Is there a hunger for more, or am I filled by my current realities? And if you do find yourself hungry. Hunger; it is the one above all other needs that we must not deviate. Have you ever noticed the person you think so much about talks only when you are done with your thinking. I find myself seeing people on special days. 

And, when you find yourself meeting people on street corners you must ask yourself why that is. What is your “God” trying to give you? Why do you find yourself continuously down this road? You can choose not to do any of this, I guess. You can choose to sit in your room and never change. You can choose to starve, or you can eat. You can meet that person on the corner and say “Hello, how are you today?” This applies itself to both the goods and bads of life, I find. More often than not, usually, the bad will turn good. The more you say “Hello,” the less defining it becomes. 

The cars come to take us home earlier than expected. We never made it to the roof that night. None of us are good at keeping time. 

“Next time,” she says, waving goodbye from the second car. She is going to her boyfriend’s house, who I also consider a friend.

I hope there is a next time. 

I hope I get the chance to say hello to the girl named after the flower and her friends again..