the answer's always yes

They called you babydoll for your first five years, until an agent at a passport office near Fresno forced your mother to name you something "real". She said that name aloud just once, and even now, only border guards at foreign checkpoints remember it as yours.

I think of that as I watch you slowly dropping clothing, like a trail of aliases, onto my bedroom floor. You're shedding little piles of sequins and mythology and I'm glowing inside, because I know that when I ask "should we...?" your answer will always be "yes".

Photo: Beatrice Neumann