just nodded, though I’d never had anything stronger than wine before. You actually laughed
when I took the shot and my face screwed up but itdidn’t feel embarrassing. You switched the
shot glass out for a Coke without a word. You hadon a black tank top and some of the tightest
pants I’d ever seen, and that feeling rose up in methat I had felt before a few times but tried not
to think too much about. Only this time I had to thinkabout it because you kept coming back to
the side of the bar nearest me to wash glasses andcut limes. You saw me staring and asked me to
dance. I had never seen a woman look at me like thatbefore. And I wanted to dance with you so
so badly, but I was shy. And still damp. So I declined,praying you would not ask another girl to
dance. You shrugged and put Nancy Sinatra on the jukebox.You did not ask another girl to
dance. On the dancefloor congregated women in allmanner of clothing, some in full-on suits. I
had never seen that many queer women before in onespace. The sight of a woman’s hand on
another woman’s waist burned into me. You came backto give me the bill and you must have
seen my face and known what was happening becauseyou offered me a cigarette. And then a
spare jacket because mine was soaked. And some gloves.I accepted it all after protesting the
polite amount. On the way to the little apartmentI’d been renting a room in, I snuggled into the
coat. It smelled like clean laundry and a little cigarettesmoke, but I didn’t mind. When I got back
and emptied my pockets, I saw your telephone numberwritten on the back of the receipt. To give
back your clothes presumably, but also to see youagain. That was your mistake. When you feed
a stray, it will come back.
20 September 1969 The Gilbert Inn, 341 Beach Dr, Seaside,OR 97138-5707
Kate. We are heading up to Washington next and willbe there for a week. The drive is
excruciatingly long, but it’s nice to stop at cutelittle diners along the way. We stayed the nightin