How Strange (Written September 5, 2014)

How Strange


What he doesn’t even know he wants

Is what drives him to do what he does.

The smallest crack in the door


Is an open invitation to slip inside.

In the stillness of the night he has a dream.

He would like to please someone fully,


Someone as close to him as air, as breath.

He remembers when he was a small child,

He heard an airplane fly overhead,


And he thought, how strange,

They don’t even know I’m here.

A wave of longing and sadness,


Like frothing milk, washes over him,

But when he finds himself alone in the room,

He is afraid. A yellowish light falls


Across the foot of the bed, where

Articles of clothing have been neatly

Placed. The material is smooth,


And feels different from anything

He has ever felt. His mind wants

Fabric, texture, and comfort.

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