Showering after sex
my mind is overcome
by thoughts, sensations, memories.
“Call Me by Your Name”
has reminded me of Rob –
the way he made a pass at me
when I was 17 –
the way I reacted
and the way I’ve often wished
I could change that moment –
erase it, rewrite it,
never experience that level of self loathing
born of inexperience…
that impression of what I lack.
Still…
kissing at church has to count for something.
My conversation with young relative returns;
how I tried to calm his fears
on Trump and AIDS and love and sex.
It only takes one time, you know?
A boy I knew who worked on Fire Island
died of an “infection” a few weeks ago –
life support turned off –
INFECTION
FIRE ISLAND
GAY
DEATH
The words that silently scream at me what I believe to be the cause
while everyone politely refuses to mention what has happened…
And the band continues to play on.
Men I’ve been inside of,
Men who’ve been inside of me
are positive.
Best friends,
Loved ones,
Infected but seldom mentioned
because an illness
is easily
the least interesting thing about them.
I think of Aaron and the tears he shed
and the words he said
and the progress he confirmed…
the wonderful weekends we’ve had.
I think about upcoming hearing while
trying not to face it with terror or worry
while the video they’re supposed to send me
has never arrived (three times).
But the shower must end
and scalding hot water must cease it’s spray.
And so I dry myself –
step back into the world
and I forget.
Written by Jason Wright
February 27, 2017