Swamptown Apartment

"We've been sitting inside all weekend, I don't even think I stepped out the door all of yesterday," Jessie said, shuffling around on the couch. "Yeah, I don't think I did either, but we did just get this record player so we had an excuse to stay inside. Plus, it's so humid out and we have that beautiful machine keeping us cool," Dana replied, motioning toward the A/C. "So what? Did you worry about how humid it was outside when you were a kid?" Jessie asked with some irritation in her voice, "I would stay outside from dawn til dusk every day in the summer back then, and now we just sit here, smoke marijuana, stick our faces next to the window unit, and listen to this record player. I am about ready to throw that thing away." "What? Are you crazy? We have only had it for a month!" Dana said, "how are we going to listen to music?" "I don't know, maybe go outside and see actual people playing actual music." Jessie said snarkily. "Yeah, and speaking of outside, I was out a lot as a kid also, but maybe that was because I didn't live in a nasty dripping swamp town," Dana told her.

"I just want to go out and meet people, Dana, I don't want our lives to be spent here in this apartment studying every weeknight and loafing around on the weekends," Jessie said, moving to the window, peering outside, looking at the people walking and sweating on the streets. Dana looked at her despondently. "We don't have to throw it out, but it has been keeping us in more than regular," Jessie said.

A few moments passed as the two of them sat quietly in the room hearing nothing but the sound of the fan in the window. Dana was thinking this silence would make Jessie realize how great the record player was at filling conversational voids, but judging by the look on her face, Jessie was just about to say something she had been thinking about for a while. "I think you should stop shaving for a bit. I just want to see what it looks like," Jessie said without making eye contact. "Umm, are you crazy?" Dana asked, confused. "Hear me out, there is an open mic poetry thing not this coming Saturday, but the one after. You haven't been writing like you used to and I miss it. Your poems are so beautiful, my love." Jessie said.

Dana took a deep breath, stood up, and began pacing across the room. "I know it is a lot, but it's what you want," Jessie yearned, "You hate shaving, it's not you, and you love poetry, and I am sick of hiding who we are, so we stay inside all the time and let the world go by while we smoke and listen to records." "YOU are sick of hiding who WE are?" Dana said impatiently, "So you want ME to stop shaving and get up on stage in front of everyone and read MY poems while they shout 'DYKE!' at me? Is that what you want?" "Dana, no it won't be like that, I read about it in the paper, it's a Georgetown event. The article talked about a gay man reading his poems there," Jessie said, getting up from the couch to comfort her. Dana looked longingly into her eyes, wanting her to understand what she was going to say, "you know it's different for them."

Jessie cradled Dana to the couch and held her. "Why don't we listen to Ziggy Stardust for a while and just lay here?" Jessie said, stroking Dana's hair and placing her warm palm on Dana's smooth, moist leg. "I'd like that," Dana said, "and maybe we can go out for a walk later too."