I wonder if you quit people.
you know,
the way you quit cigarettes
steadfast
but hidden round the back
I wonder
if you make love
or if you fuck
with your hands
with your mouth
with the strap
I wonder
if you live
with ghosts
like I do
if they haunt
you. do you?
sleep well?
I wonder how
you get tucked in
how your spy glass sits
how you stir
in spats and fits
what’s that dream
that wakes you
in your shower—
where the thoughts slip
where do you stick them
down in the ribs
round a doorknob
where are you going?
what’s the feeling
when you touch the dirt
a tree
a baby in a belly
what arrows shoot through
when you taste a cake
was it a birthday?
the wedding—
when you smashed
that glass
by mistake
looked yourself
in the eye
in the mirror
outside the stall
washed your hands
in the bathroom
with the flowers
with the lady
handing paper towels
you put the good soap
couple of tampons
in your suit pocket
maybe a mint
just incase
said, hey—
is that you
is that me
how did I get here?
your old chick
has a new chick
who smells
like trust fund
dusty,
overpriced,
vintage
and Chanel
# five
curated carbon copy
of that spring catalogue
If
millennials fucked
with things
like paper mail
bite your lip
mumble something
anything
some thing
as the clock ticks
and the couple
cross the table asks,
”where’s your
plus fun?”
roll your fingers
round that good soap
in the pocket
pinch the pennies
beside
hot water in the eyes
no.
you won’t let
the tears—
nah—
step
outside.
instead,
you ate the sugar
that got swiped
cross the bride
you don’t know
well, no. not well.
ate more
than you needed to
to busy the mouth.
you know the husband.
co-worker.
her face — yeah
your co-worker’s bride
her face as he—
cameras flashing
and well planned smears
icing on the—
face
cake
face
cake
face
danced it off
to that bad
90’s tune
touched your belly
said to yourself
one day,
maybe one day,
just maybe a baby
could-might-possibly-maybe
l i v e
here.
looked round the room
all those heteros
eligible-sperm-donor-dicks
on the dance floor
and barefooted
heel-less women
it’s hot in that suit
yeah?
but the tie looks fly
and the haircut
and those stares
from straight chicks
feel naughty
and right
when you get home
You’ll take your shoes off
but not now
no not now
less
it’s outside
just to feel
some grass
and wind
on a wine-red face
maybe have a smoke
and a think
marriage.
where’d it come from
and what is it
about proximity
that makes us gays
so, very, very, sad
take the train back
yeah.
to your new place.
avoid the big pupil eyed guy
jerking off
on the platform
with an audience
of rats.
maybe he won’t notice
the girl
inside the suit.
when he comes
And the train doesn’t
“call” über
shared ride
drunk couple
bickering
sloppy-kissing
at your side
look out the window
out at your city.
pretend
to be deaf.
what is a home
if not this city
what is a city
if not
this
city
if not this—
New York,
I’m not through
with you.
but,
I need a break—
all those
bounced
checks
all that
re-
gret
I’m a sucker.
cuz I still love you.
goodnight.
I’ll call you in the morning.
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