101 Damnations

i need to be better
to you
in the hopes
that we all
can be better to each other

should living be selfish?
not my place to say
but it would seem that
small town life
is where it's at
you're queer
i'm queer
we are family

no questions asked
support
constant
in the form of trips to bigger places
and nights at the one gay bar
dinners at the end of a long week
and evenings spent
together
just in front of the television

gathering
after gathering
a unit is formed
shared understandings
lead to shared experience
and enough of that
leads to a shared life

community does not exist in manhattan
not for me anyway
perhaps at some point
but not at 24

this concept seems to be alive
in sitcom land
via LA
via soundstages
that no one could believe look real
four straight men
who choose each other over women every episode
six single eccentrics
who always have a home to return to

my family is one place
my partner is somewhere else
my friends...
what friends i ask myself?
the friends who called this weekend
oh, them

i cannot control
the lives of the unlimited choices
constant distraction
does not make forgiveness easy
fuck up once
and game over
onto the next player
final result:
you lose

but take that small town circle
and plop them down up here
they would more than likely disintegrate too
there's just too much
too much of it all

how many friends have i known
in my five years here?
how many numbers have i entered into
and deleted
from my phone?
more importantly though,
how much of it was my fault
and how much of it wasn't?

one former co-worker
who i sat across from saturday night
over margaritas
in midtown
reminded the table that her new year's resolution
was to strip away the unnecessary
cleanse the system
be rid of the haunting past

she resolved to delete one # from her cell phone
every single day
until she had gotten down
to only the people who mattered

i can't say that i don't see why

needing the support of a loved one
in the middle of our ridiculous lives
is as natural as breathing and taking a shit
but holding out for the phone to ring
in this fucked up city
is a torture that can't be explained

so i won't forget to be glad
every single time that it does
even if I can't shake the feeling
every single time that it doesn't