Jolyse Race is a queer writer, community organizer, daughter and friend living in Brooklyn, New York (but midwestern at heart).

Moving on as Interspatial Time-Fuck

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I lost both my purple and green umbrellas. Catapulted through highways and a whole solar system into the future and saw that things weren’t better (yet). When I get rained on I think of God and holy water mixed with pollution. Time is optional, you told me. I wrap my fingers around time. Touch every past life I lived and pull them into my body so they can walk with me to the train. Taking care of you is a full-time job. Taking care of myself is at least part-time. Being so self-involved is a curated effort. I am offended that not everybody wants to fuck me. I once left a birthday cake in my trunk the whole winter. Frozen frosting surrounding gray days and on my mattress on the floor I screamed for those past lives to tell me I will live again. My fingernails grow too fast and I am always doing dishes. I am nothing like my mother planned. In trepidation I wait to fall asleep knowing full well tomorrow will come in full force. I always wanted to be Harriet the Spy. Stomp around in yellow rain boots while Rosy O’Donnell recites that poem and tells me I’m a good person. I once was a child draped in floral waiting for a fight and I’ve cried on the phone so many times. At 32 I’ve already said “I’m sorry” a lifetime’s worth.

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