By Andrea Dulanto
Inventory
a broken rosary,
unwritten birthday cards.
But the shoes had purpose.
Employee discounts from Lord & Taylor,
Bloomingdale’s/ Macy’s, Neiman Marcus,
9 ½-10 medium, leather upper,
man-made, made in Brazil, made in Italy,
flats, stacked heels.
I empty the boxes
and enter the shopping malls,
the half-price sales, the supermarket lines,
the churches and restaurants,
the worn path of carpet, ceramic tiles,
the linoleum of public bathrooms,
the asphalt of parking lots, concrete sidewalks,
the daily trajectories
over grass, dirt,
sand.
Down the hall from my mother’s apartment lives an older woman.
Sometimes she needs me to open a jar.
Conocí a tu madre, she says
but I don’t ask her to say more
I tell a therapist, on our first and last day working together
I live with the furniture from my childhood
Oh, we’ll change that!
I empty the boxes
but the shoes had purpose
they stay in their boxes
everything lo mismo
Slam Dancing at the University of Chicago, 1992
I was visiting my friend.
Chicago in the spring;
it had just snowed.
We stumbled drunk into the night to find some party.
We were young enough to think we would always be friends.
When we got there, she went looking for boys.
She’d been looking for boys since the 8th grade.
But I didn’t care anymore if I danced alone.
You were also on the dance floor, alone.
I threw myself against your maleness
this lack of boundaries
one of my drunken shames
you pushed back
not in a violent way
but in a way that woke me up
I want to say they were playing Nirvana even if they weren’t
we pushed our shoulders against whatever we were supposed to be
when the music was over,
we walked away without knowing each other
you didn’t know I was Latina,
white-presenting
I wouldn’t have said white-presenting
I wouldn’t have known those words
but there was, there is
less risk
for someone like me
who looked white
to slam into your shoulder
even as someone queer
I would have said lesbian if you asked me then.
less risk because I didn’t look like a lesbian
what does that mean
it means I knew not to come out
to someone I just met
I knew what not to say.
I didn’t know you either
maybe you aren’t completely white or completely straight
or you don’t identify as male.
or maybe you found your place in the educated procession
real estate lawyer, married, three kids, vinyl collection.
are we more nameless
if we dance with the nameless
or is this how we speak ourselves into language
dance ourselves
into existence
Andrea Dulanto (pronouns: they/ she) is a queer writer whose parents immigrated to the U.S. from Peru and Argentina. Degrees include an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Florida International University, and a B.A. in Literature from Antioch College in Ohio. Publications include Maudlin House, Acentos Review, Harpur Palate, SWWIM Every Day, and others.