"What are you doing?" I said too loudlly. Her hand covered my mouth to keep more words from erupting. "Shh. If they hear you they'll come in and we'...l both be in trouble." Then she let go of my mouth. I could feel her breathing, her lips barely touching my cheek. "What are you doing?" I said more quietly. She whispered into my ear. "I wanna touch you. Let me?" I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. Her fingertips first touched my lips, then traveled very slowly down past my neck, past. ’ It’s really tragic.” “You went to college,” I said, “and my mom said you were working on your PhD and then dropped out—why did you do that?” “Because I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I was a poet and it wasn’t a choice. It’s hard to explain—I mean, you can choose to do something like be a doctor or lawyer or whatever, but you are chosen to be a poet. It’s a gift and a tremendous responsibility. I found that I wanted to share what was intimate and secret and I felt, I mean, really. More

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