Four of us there;
though it’s hard to believe:
Bald Jason, Paul
and Darla and Steve.
The latter I stripped
in Ann Arbor fountain
before baring flesh
pressing into his bottom;
concealing our pact
(which they labeled obscene)
and that this healing act
had in fact made us clean.
The nerve that in public
made time seem to end:
Perving the lovesick
with crime through the lens
of twenty-one years
flashing by in a blur…
The party that wasn’t
for the people we were.
A moment of lust
that had built beyond reason,
Momentous trust
in the shadow of treason,
A moment of courage
acknowledged and shared,
Encouraged by touch
though we weren’t prepared
for the judgment of strangers
and friends left outside,
as we puzzled through riddles
with longing our guide,
But licentious struggles
are seldom rewarded,
For all our successes
we may have been thwarted…
For the world gazed in fear
as if love were contagious…
Our fumbled premiere
saw us stumble toward greatness.
Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2017
