LITTLE JOY QUEER NIGHT STILL NOT REALLY VERY QUEER

See. See perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps we were wrong, beautifully wrong. Two weeks in a row and now there’s no excuse. The Little Joy on Sunday is a meagerly populated hipster dive bar. Period. No queers. Or some so vague as to deem them unnecessary, accoutrement, color. Color. Nothing more.

And then the question is, who cares? But then, we all just want to be loved, right? So then we should care. What’s one to do? Tell me!

The crinkle of the brow, head cocked, and nothing comes out of the mouth. And all I want is to fall, to fall into something hard and soft. Soon. Right? Soon. Because I don’t know how much more of this I can take without something, something for me, just me. Something weak and pure and childlike, right? Right?