The day you joined the Christopher Street parade

The day you joined the Christopher Street parade

All the boys, young sad and gay

Collapsing in strange places

But no place to stay

Sexy at an after work party

Gay slurs while kissing 

from the cabbie

Strangers and heroes and the hot guy 

who stole your Jobriath LP

Falling over in fevers.

Looking all the way up the sidewalk, 

History between these two islands

Cold comfort and uneasy crosses

All the water afforded us, 

100 years and all the dross

Is whatever left behind

Underneath the floorboards. 

The burning building

The rotting barn

All the things we built

Collapsing into the dark place

While lonely lines keep humming

On. 

Your name here

On this watch, this name tag

Your smell on the shirts your wore

Beads from 1993 and 

Some opera swag

Another pair of slippers 

Never to experience feet

And others things you swore

Wouldn’t turn to sand

And defeat.

Should have had them check your head

Red fag after red flag

After regrets

Left you to join the Christopher Street parade,

A place where others would fade,

Now one along the line in angels to 

Exalt with joy and rage.

 

A quiet moment where my brain is open

It’s okay to be tired. You are not dead. It is not over. You are sad because you can’t share this pain with Bob. You have to do this part on your own. No one else is coming to help you. There is no safety net which will avoid this. 

For the sun to rise, long and sharp over the horizon,  for grey clouds to part, seeds to germinate on a new hillside and dreams to arise into who knows what…

You can't avoid the future. Why waste it?

  

For the fading light to lift and find me waiting. For the fog…and all the moments I’ve wanted to share getting lost in.

Its fucking awful how much I miss Bob. 

Grief sucks everything out of me each day. Hope keeps me here. There is too much potential of what was to simply waste. I will do something…with what was and is. I’m working on it. 

Not Dark Yet