At Least We’re Not Gay by Ian Martyn
“At Least We’re Not Gay”
His voice beckoned to me
Unaware that his sphere of straightness
Ended before the seat next to him
As though two insects
Freshly molted exoskeletons
On the floor in front of us
Discarded high school identities
Two freshmen
United by one identity
Divided by another
A friendship ended before it began
“At Least We’re Not Gay”
Lingered in the air
The Grand Canyon minimized
By our shared armrest