Holding him up,
bare chested,
helping him piss
with as much dignity
as we could manage
in his drunken confessional state…
“Is that guy really your type?”
His dream was an unsuspected plot twist
which he felt had ruined his character;
an angry embarrassing accusation
which left me flattered, confused
and deeply protective.
His dream inspired a jealousy
that I couldn’t have fathomed.
He never told me the details
and I never asked.
This early stumble,
an unexpected crucible
which allowed for nothing less than
hot hard facts
inspired by revelatory dreams
which haunted us both.
My ego suggests his version of the truth
might have been why
he drank to such excess that night…
but who am I kidding?
That’s what alcoholics do.
And yet his light of day
honesty united us more than
any nighttime weaknesses
could have shattered us…
transforming anger into respect,
confusion into admiration…
and an unexplored threatening lust
into the building blocks
of a friendship long shadowed by
an insistent innocent eroticism.
Written by Jason Wright
May 23, 2019
For Bryan
