Spoiler
I'd just like to clarify. Ear tags are not the things that are on everyone's ears. My friend has these little nubs of skin--a birth defect, that are on her ear. I call them ear tags. I have no idea what else they are called.
Your ear tags are my favorite part of you
immaterial flaps of skin
hanging off your right ear.
I love your laugh, especially when you choke me
with your laughter, and I can’t talk, can’t breathe.
Like when you made me laugh in fifth grade
and I spit yogurt all over you.
I love to play with your hair
although I wince when my hand finds
the pimples at your brow, I don’t mind them
as much as I should, because they are you.
I love to hold your hand,
always clammy inside yet
dry and cracked on the outside.
I don’t mind that our hands get sweaty together,
that yours is icy against mine.
I love your singing voice,
high as the highest soprano,
yet lower than I can sing, too.
You told me two years ago
that you were bisexual.
At the time, I’d never heard the word before.
When you explained it to me,
it didn’t make sense. But when you explained,
it planted a seed inside of me.
Bisexual. And now small actions
holding your hand at a movie
stroking your hair while you cry
during “Harold and Maude,”
slow dancing with you at the end-of-year dance,
the little things make me wonder,
if that’s who I want to be, too.
I’m sorry that I’m too shy to ask you and I know
that you think I’m straight. I wish
that I had your courage but you have no idea how I feel,
it would never occur to you to ask.
So I finger your ear tags
and wonder if you love me too.

