I haven’t felt before.

Quiet.

It’s quiet in my body.

No wishes

or name-calling

in my mind.

It’s becoming what it’s supposed to be.

As long as I can

remember, it was about

wishing for a different body.

All summer it seemed

to be about

making it disappear,

but I’m done hiding behind lies,

or too much skin,

or trying to be something else.

I pour the summer through my mind.

A breeze is blowing,

everything pond quiet,

redwood strong,

the wind through the trees,

nothing else to lose.

The Revolution Inside

I walk by the pizza place,

smell the melting mozzarella,

the sauce, pepperoni,

and oregano.

For the first time, I don’t

feel the need to rush in

or the fear that I won’t get enough.

I don’t miss the book,

or the rules or levels

or counting almonds

or forgetting the taste

of bread and chips.

The book was a guide,

but I’m not afraid to be without it,

and it feels free.

Like the revolution is inside me,

it’s part of me now.

A new appetite,

a new body, a new mind

that knows more

about how to do the right

things for myself.

Later that night,

we go for dinner,

celebrate our last days of summer.

We order a pizza

with olives and extra cheese.

I don’t cut the crust off,

just happily eat

two of the slices,

and it’s enough.

The Game?

I miss Pick.

I’ll have to email him

in Australia,

tell him the truth

about how I didn’t do much with the game.

But I think he’ll be happy

when I tell him about

all that’s happened.

I think Pick

always believed in

me the most,

even if I do make

him mad sometimes.

I find our stack of folders

for the game near

Pick’s abandoned

sleeping mat.

He is always

more organized

than I am,

makes sure that

things move forward.

I reach into

the top folder,

pull out a blank

sheet of graph paper,

and begin to sketch

something new:

us, on the beach,

tiny stick figures

on the sand,

and far from shore,

many graph-paper squares away,

a giant robot

stands in the ocean,

watching over us,

its massive frame

against the rising sun.

The Bruise Is Gone

At the beach,

Lisa’s hand

moves along the intense

sunburn on my back.

That’s stupid, she says.

Laughs. You get this sunburn now?

It’s true. It’s the first one of the summer.

She lets her hand glide down

at my side, rests it

on the shallowest part

of my love handle.

I can’t see the bruise anymore, she says.

I feel a sudden tingle in my thumb,

the soreness from when

I pinched myself bloody.

The blue-black is all faded now,

the indentation gone,

my skin,

all one color.

She lets her hand rest there