I would sit in the blazing Alabama heat with my cousins.
Picking nectarines from my great aunt’s tree.
I must have swallowed a pit,
Since I’ve had a knot in my stomach since I was 10.
Or maybe the pit wasn’t the first knot.
Maybe the fermented juice running down my chin wouldn’t be the only pleasure that would also cause me pain.
It could have been on my 8th birthday when we were on our way to my favorite restaurant,
When the crunched remains of our car crushed me so small that my intestines tied themselves together.
Or maybe it was when my teacher found out I couldn’t tie my shoes.
I could read at a high school level but couldn’t tie my laces because my head was too busy reciting the varieties of knots it had tied my stomach in.
Every time she told me to look her in the eye, it learned a new one.
Or perhaps it was when my first girlfriend showed me how to tie a cherry stem with my tongue before I stammered out “I love you”
Before she reached far enough to tug on the nectarine pit.
Careful to tangle herself into every knot on the way.
I still have a hard time telling pleasure from pain.
My name is Rin Stone, and I’m a trans guy from Alabama living in Portland, Oregon. I work at Powell’s City of Books where I specialize in Autistic and queer books. Most of my writings are songs, poetry, or journal entries about experiencing the world as a queer Autistic person.