Tag: gay

Mark’s asleep, curled up on his side and snoring. Justin rolls over gently, so not to wake him, and because his limbs feel like lead and his head is pounding.

Fuck high school reunions, honestly. Fuck cheap hotel rooms with droopy mattresses. And fuck margaritas for the way they unearth shit no matter how deeply it’s buried.

Justin studies the back of Mark’s head, his brown curls glossy in the dawn light. His neck looks graceful, tender, and Justin wants to touch the dark, downy whorl under Mark’s ear. Fuck broken hearts, he thinks, burrowing deeper under the thin sheet.

He and his dark coat and blank face are as far away from me as the back seat will allow.
It’s late; that dour string quartet could put anyone in a mood.
We pass Superior, then Huron. If he doesn’t speak by Grand, I’ll chuckle and say, “Remember that restaurant in Seattle, the one with the waffles?” I’ll reach out my hand.
We were young then, beards brown instead of white.
“Remember how it rained?” I could say.
That taxi was smaller than this one, and full of zydeco. He was wet and shining, breathless.
We ride, in silence, home.