There’s a drag queen golf announcer
Standing next to a disheveled dresser.
Someone in the shower
Is being abused by the water.
For someone else’s sins
Leaving no accord between futures of themselves and histories of a home once again.
A man stands on a coffee table
Reading aloud Whitman poems.
Around him rests beings purely existing
Finding that they must for those not yet living.
There’s commentary about revelations of pure identity.
For me, this seems like what sex should be.
Disease could never kill identity.
This is why we must shout.
Lust in some beings peripheral
Is something humanely intellectual
Espoused from coffee tables
Decrypted and unmolested
For those not yet living beings who will be accosted.
All of these queers are stretched forever in all directions
Because they must purify societies suggestions.
Now there is someone who finds existence in defiance
At a golf party for the humanely intelligent queers in residence.