S At the Gay Bar

by J.B. Kalf

The air conditioning mattress with springs refusing to curb 

bathroom nicotine like the ship and its hull the patio 

lifting the lid and the wind little indulgences 

on miseries and dolls flashing grip of the navel

desperate men and crooners as exiting the diner

and entering the dive outside the wrong entrance

protected by the butch vanguard condensation

and chit chat violence of the homosexual surviving

through hips gripping tinfoil roofs and closed tabs and

each image becomes the duplicate where sidewalk

vomit red misses the mark but inside the house is empty

and the owner is gone and it is unlocked and it is left alone.