A Love Poem Awkwardly Inspired By a Stupid Video Feature at Slate.Com

Do the rights and freedoms we currently enjoy mean that now is the best time in history to be gay?

When was the best time ever to be gay?

It was when we met. Before that we

were accidents of sex taxonomy;

now we’re texts and winks throughout the day.

Were we to travel back through history,

find ourselves in Death in Venice’s day,

or lounging like ancient Greeks carved in clay

as charms against queer specificity,

I’d still measure the good from when I first

swiveled a barstool so our knees would touch

and laughed too loud and hard and talked too much

and covered my nerves with beer and was the worst.

You still came home with me, and stayed, and here

we are regardless of the marked and measured year.