Until now.
So, yes or no, Veda?”
“Yes or no what?”
“Will you go out with me for a cup of coffee?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I prefer tea, thank you.”
FADING PHANTOMS
Govinda meets me at an outdoor café.
We sit at a table
under a pipul tree.
The type of tree that ripped up my life.
And so the tree that helped me lose
and find dance.
My limb feels hot and sweaty.
I unclick my right leg, roll the socks off my residual limb,
expose my skin to the cool breeze.
A big yellow Labrador runs over from a neighboring table
and sniffs at my residual limb.
As the dog’s tail brushes against my crescent-moon scar,
my phantom limb tingles into life.
But it tickles instead of prickling with pain.
I laugh. Uncontrollably.
“What?” Govinda says. “What?”
“The dog’s brought my ghost sensation back.
Except this time, my leg’s tickling me.”
Govinda yanks the dog away and glances
at the space below my limb
as if he’s searching for my phantom.
I take his hand,
lead it to the nonexistent length of leg.
His fingers feel soft.
His fingers feel good
stroking my invisible skin.
So good I want him stroking my real skin.
Want to reach out and stroke his.
My desire scares me and I reach for the safety of my teacup.
My ghost limb fades.
Govinda lays a hand on my cheek.
I lean into his touch.
He looks shy
and almost as scared
as I was just feeling.
I burst out laughing.
Never imagined we’d share being scared
the first time we went out together.
“What’s so funny now?”
“You. You look so frightened.”
“I am frightened.” He exhales.
Then smiles and slides
closer to me.