I Don't Have A Tattoo

When she wore sans-culottes and crossed her legs, it was hard not to look: A rising phoenix wrapped itself around her calf.

It was the same one she had on her card. And the same one I had on the back of a commemorative chip I got to mark 20 years.

I never asked about it. But when I think of her, I think of it. And it came to mind again when watching The Flight Attendant. Kelly Cucco has some sort of Egyptian bird spreading its wings in ink under the nape of her neck.

(A show about an alcoholic, don’t you know.)

Makes me wonder if I missed something earlier, if I should’ve gotten one back in college with the earring I no longer wear. I was hot for a girl named Rachael and she seemed to think they were sexy.

But, I didn’t. And it’s not likely at this late stage I will.

Yet, sometimes I think I should’ve asked about it in that office and found out the story of what it meant to her so that I could explore the story of what I thought I was missing.

So, yeah, I don’t have a tattoo.