A few months ago, they said history was made.
Success stories of “gay conversions” spread like wildfire in the religious circles that lend credibility to the family spheres, providing hope that perhaps the right camp, the right proselyte can make the miracle transformation.
I’ve learned to adapt to the emptiness at home, and am trying to be stronger and more independent.
I was reading the poem
New York to San Fran
featured in the February edition of Poetry magazine
during my train ride to Philadelphia
past Monday evening,
and what I felt
was neither arousal nor incitement.