We were led out front, stripped of our khakis, and provided with orange jumpsuits two sizes too big so we billowed and glowed like inflatable men in front of car lots.
#13
An Exile (and other poems)
I cannot say why they picked this place,
why they stopped moving where they did…
Life After Death
“I’d trade my masculinity for a Popsicle,” my housemate Rob said, elbows akimbo behind his head, topped with a black beanie. I was curled beside him on the futon….