I’ve never been to a gay club but I know
two boys will hold hands & not speak with fire
in their throats. There, you lit a cigarette
& you’re not the one to burn.
You dance & dance ’till your feet forget the routes
that lead to a country where boys like you
are altered to a scattering of glass shards.
There, no angry faces. No shitty laws.
Your body, unfettered, dragging itself to everything
that wears joy on its skin.
Your heart, unafraid to call the other boy beautiful.
He plants several kisses on your lips
& they germinate into wallflowers.
What powerful romance is this: two boys filling the holes
in their chests with their favorite songs
& calling it self therapy?
Both of you alive & deathless. Both of you pulling
each other by the belt to a corner, the music perfect,
the red lights bouncing on your scars— what
straight boys can do queer boys can also do.
You excuse yourself, in the toilet you’re iterating a song
of freedom before a mirror, surprised at
how sweet & sincere your smile is— boy,
o queer boy, is that joyful tears or liquor dripping
from your eyes?