Your kitchen makes me think of God as you're kissing me inside of it. I feel it in the tissue of my breasts that a year and a half on estrogen way back when never quite made form. Our hair gets caught inside our lips and after a while I no longer can quite tell which strand’s mine and which strand’s yours. Tangled together like this I wonder, what are borders? I close my eyes as your hand makes waves out of my ears. The lightbulb flickers and I feel the memories come on. They’re pressing soft...