To the woman ogling us at the bar:

I bet we turn you on

I’m sorry to take it there,

But that’s just how it is

Imagine!

Three queers on a couch

Splayed out across one another

Cuddled, cozy, content

Unafraid of your stare,

Welcoming it even

Something curious

To poke and

Mock and wonder at

We think,

“I wonder what’s hidden beneath it?”

This fluttering stare,

Are you dissatisfied  with your mediocre?

Contemplating

What other roads you wanted to take ?

Were too afraid to take?

Made too many mistakes to make?

Afraid of the fluttering stares

From women and husbands in

Bars and parks

And streets and shops

And hospitals and schools and

Afraid of being beaten into

Submission day after day,

Afraid of a world which tells you,

“You can’t love this way.”

Because society says it should be so

“And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

Or so they say

Instead, you look across the table

Play with your straw

And wonder

At the life you chose your partner

Sits across from you, guzzling beer

Absently you notice some of it

Miss his mouth

Dribble down his chin onto his shirt

You forgotten, him oblivious

His eyes refuse to part

From the large screen fixed above the bar

You sigh, telling yourself

You’re happy, you’re content,

You have a good life

An old, faded mantra

Your eyes flick back to us

And we think,

I bet we turn you on.

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