Lying in bed with my boyfriend
I ask if he thinks we’ll make it
survive outside these brick walls
or are we doomed till the end
a love without benefits.
Maybe we’ll be like Gaveston,
fucked over by our Edward
on lies, on heartaches, and on tables
or one of us will die
of AIDS, untreated syphilis
to become another Andrew, another Angel
who perishes of a sickness
we deserve then praised
in movies for battling morality,
for succumbing to our taboo temptations
and for “playing straight” to fit in
or one of us will be beaten in the streets
of Sheridan, Wyoming or Philadelphia
for wanting to settle down
with a man like Jack, then hung
on a post for crows and turkey buzzards
or maybe we’ll be left to rot
in hallowed ground, like Giovanni
after we drop dead from sheer queerness,
like George who had nothing going for him.
Sure we’re going to die,
I just hope it’s not because we’re faggots.
