I listen to Cigarettes After Sex
and Men That I Trust
as I wander the streets of New York.
I smile –
sad smile
for closeted younger version of myself,
lonely and wandering a well remembered
if faded watercolor fairground
and the man that I saw there…
I never spoke to him,
though we recognized each other –
or, should I say that
we recognized the truth in ourselves?
And that recognition was dangerous,
reckless, unplanned and perfect.
I’ve written of him before
and I’ve thought of him
even more times than that…
We crossed paths on the cusp
of momentous change.
And on an overcast Friday afternoon,
I stumble for words to capture
his vivid, pained echo,
which has forever remained a part of me,
despite the seemingly inconsequential nature
of our subtle, surreptitious, serendipitous encounter.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2019