Our imperfections
gleam white-gold in the late afternoon.

I am still
your beautiful boy

You cannot see me now
hidden as I am
behind the mountain of baggage
you have accumulated

I still have
your secret name
embossed into my wrist

The whole world
really doesn't care for us
as I once believed
even the tall soft grasses
I would tell my lies and truth to
have become weedy and disgruntled

We have no format
to call uniformity
on any other day
I can find you naked and screaming
at mongrel dogs on the street
your breasts pressed to the windowpanes
a smear of sexuality
caressing dust

Arms flailing
in ever widening arcs
till you blur
and whirr away

a dragonfly in search of a clear sky

Chasing shadow dreamers
over a sulking city streetscape
in diving leaps

Seeking confirmation of the obvious
in denial of obscurities

And I

Hold on for dear life
face pressed into the iridescence of
your wings
the thrumming beat
my heart
the lurching uncertainty
my choice

always
my choice