LIGHTS AND TUNNELS
Joy Cometh this Summer: Ode from a NYC Gay Bar
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
I write to you from a high-top table,
At a New York City gay bar,
A bar that has been forced to serve chips and salsa,
A hot dog, or a soft pretzel,
With a very strange nacho cheese sauce.
We must eat, they say,
So we may open.
I signed in,
And scribbbled — no! elegantly wrote — my name,
They took my temperature, 98.6,
I left my number. Call me.
The sun is shining!
It is a prelude of the season to come.
It is bright in New York City,
Light in the interminable winter.
I write to you from the future, friends,
I write to you of the future,
For the future.
I write to you because in these 365 days,
We have become one — me and you.
Joe was right;
Joy do cometh.
It cometh this summer,
And we shall rejoice!
