outside,
the evening tries to paint freckles over our
skin until the light starts to dip
low behind the trees.
we sit on the steps of the front porch
and greg says
well you'll never find yourself someone if you
don't learn to be a bit more ambitious.
the sun melts across the
skyline while mom slaps him with a gregory
wayne you leave her alone in that
i-have-raised-six-children-and-i'm-tired
tone only she has.
it feels like something is stirring deep
inside me. like there is a
current building in my stomach and rising
toward my lips with each pressed back i'm
gay i'm gay i'm gay but i tamp that down,
instead tell him i feel like i'm boiling because
that's somehow more normal.
just what's causing that in ya?
my hum is eaten by dad stepping out on
the porch, lighting a cigarette and filling the
empty section of my step.
pop i think this one's a little different.