I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant. We were in middle school Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary "He’s so gay," she said Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing And so I asked My exact words being “Whats so wrong with being happy?” Now both my friends looked at me weird “Don’t you know what gay means?” “Doesn’t it mean to be happy?” “You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy” I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy; why it was such a distasteful thing. And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Enraptured in divine embrace Two lovers on the precipice. Cast outward from on high Seeing nothing but love in their eye Through the clouds they fell and tumbled In true content their two hearts rumbled
Passion flourished in the sky Momentary lightning in her eye A playful taste upon the ear And drew her lover ever nearer. Resist not her temptation could he And so clutched her close in quiet glee.
Making love, a sweaty pit stop between the sheets. Politicians, librarians, directors, janitors, authors, queens, kings, moms, you, me, All guilty of this bittersweet act of sticky significance. All willing to tangle our limbs every night.
I knew what he was saying as he said it, because his words painted the walls of my ears. When he painted my drums Bob Marley’s voice became my world. And in that moment, the moment of friction, my world was at peace.
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