It’s absurd,
how proud I am
of having no friends
who use “gay”
as a perjorative,
as if
such careful speech
among careful friends
is truly evidence
of care, when
I consider
how quick I am
to provide a disclaimer
regarding my own
orientation
during my own passionate defenses
of equality.
Outside in the street
the dense chunk
of a slammed door.
A hard, confident summons:
“Hey pendejo –”
followed by
two men speaking
I can’t really hear. Then,
the first voice again —
“you never know.
When it comes,
it comes.”
I turn off the light.
When it comes,
it comes. I live that way too,
waiting for it.
But outside —
nothing more. Whenever it comes,
it seems,
won’t be
tonight.
Dark Matter
Dark Matter 