a poet's hiatus

walking home, a dark silhouette planted in a window
examines my path along the cracked sidewalk

i suddenly remember coming out to my parents
my mom drove without a look to the road;
my father read a letter at the bar.
for not being easy to say, it was easy

and i liked the rush. a drug of acceptance,
my friends had little
to say, or nothing, and i projected
all my hidden hopes on them,
imagining for how quickly it had all gone
that i would soon feel a bit less alone.

i never guessed it had nothing to do with
being gay, and really more about growing up.
now i am happy to be myself alone.

but how many times will i forget my life's owner?
vampire movies in a silvery theatre's flicker
wanting too much to touch you or kiss you
so much so that you are thrust away

screaming at rapt faces, turned upward, unhearing
i came for you, and you can do nothing but
press your lips together with his,
lip sync to a stale, purple beat

to be unseen even as i call your name
inquiries unanswered, singing karaoke to no one
glowing at the green lantern and drawing in so much smoke,
imagining it might fill me,
or write poems on my behalf.