st. patricks gay

i sat conspicuously at a table in a gay bar with four others. one of the only bearable left in the city. I considered everyone at the table friends. 3 of them dear. though, only one was more important to me than even my own flesh.


we had of late spent less time together, which obviously meant we spent more time with others, since i had moved 2 months ago. he still held the same rank and still evoked the same feelings in me- but change in proximity always changes something relationally. my previous week had been gallingly dramatic and terribly painful. he knew nothing of it. i hadn't actively hid anything from him but with my time filled to its brim with just trying to get on it left little time to update him. even though i desperately needed his attention and ideas in the matter(s). my attention and ideas were doing no good.

i was sitting at this table. welcomed to their company and their beer. encouraged to speak and engage. all of this i appreciated and took in but i couldn't shake
the image of a square peg and round hole. i excused myself and i walked
home on the same tear stained path i had tread an hour before.