Like a Brother

He is family, almost like a brother, so he is safe. Or rather, I am safe. To go with him upstairs, to play with him. I wish I had my toys. They aren’t with me because they’re in another part of the city. We’re staying with one part of the extended family and going out with the rest for big meals in baofang, private dining rooms in restaurants with too bony fish. I just want the familiar: KFC. An American export in China, like me. But he promises me we’ll get some after we play. I have to be quiet though, he tells me as he touches between his legs.

Rain God

He laughed when I joked I must’ve changed her weather overnight.

On Choice

I do not want to be pressed against a pronoun, or to ever press a child against one.