i’ve always loved a good stephen king story.

it was not surprising to find me

sitting comfortably in a matinee of one of his films

excited by the popcorn and overpriced candy

it was one of those afternoons

that i saw someone like myself on that screen for the first time:

two gay men

running from

bigger, stronger men

the real enemy

(not the killer clown)

no.

this was a more realistic fear

men killing men

flesh hurting flesh

i sat and watched

wide eyed

as they

attempted escape

words hurled at them

names.

no.

not names.

slurs.

yes slurs.

i’d never heard before

i guess

i shouldn’t have been as surprised as i was when my ears first heard

those same slurs

directed at

me

and i can’t decide which is scarier

the fiction king created

or the reality that inspired it