Ready When You Are

by Gary Lonesborough

“I don’t really feel like talking to white people right now.”

Hell, he’s known me for as long as I’ve collected memories.

It could be morning, night, noon, any time of day. We could be anywhere at all. It doesn’t matter. There is nothing else that matters anymore. There is just me and him.

“They won’t care,” he continues. “And if they do, then fuck ’em.”

And maybe I’m not so wrong anymore, because it feels so right to be kissing his lips.

“Where have you been this whole time?” “I was right here,”

But I do worry. I can’t fucking help it. Maybe it’s just part of my personality or my DNA or something—to worry forever about everything.

Maybe he thinks I’ll start talking gay and acting gay and that I won’t be the same person he’s known all these years. And maybe I will change. Maybe just a little bit. Maybe that would be okay.

Let us stay here holding each other for as long as it takes to be ready to walk out that door.

If we don’t let ourselves be who we are, love who we are, where we come from, it’ll strangle ya until you can’t fight it no longer.

you’ve probably hated yourself before, maybe for a long time. Maybe you still do. But those who love you, they love you no matter what.

“I’m gay as fuck.”

I can feel it coming, a good old cry.