The sun is shining, and there are boys to cruise again.
Commercial Street has lost its mind—
drag queens spilling out of brunch,
some idiot inching a car through the crowd
like a wrong answer no one corrects.
Pedicabs. Lines. The madness
of a town that was, just weeks ago,
navigable. Quiet. Mine.
I push through, catching eyes,
a sweatshirt, someone’s hair,
my hands already in it—
what they’d sound like in the dark,
all of it mine, none of it spoken,
because we are being gentlemen.
The town keeps rushing through me.
I let it.
