I Kiss Frankie on the Mouth

the way my mom kisses my dad,
my brother kisses his girlfriend.

All You Need is a Costume

I’m sitting at a summer family reunion, the smell of fresh-cut grass and burgers
in the air. Too small for baseball with my cousins, bored by adults around the
picnic table, my mind drifts to my first Halloween—months before, when I walked
the streets of our neighborhood, a bed sheet ghost asking for candy.

Color Wheel

President Obama lives
eight blocks
from where I grew up—

Think

You’d think my partner would be kind
enough to remove his boyfriend’s
water glass from my side of the bed.

On the Corner of S and Connecticut

My daughter and I are stopped on the street when a homeless man
approaches us and asks: Where were the police when that gang of thugs
cut off my dick?

Not a Topic for Polite Company

A week after I attempted suicide,
I met a beautiful ballet dancer who told me
he was happy to finally meet someone so
grounded.