Control

In the Pornhub video two houseless men
Suck each other on a subway bench.
It’s late at night, but not late enough
No one is around. The people are
Outraged, call the men disgusting, 
New York and humans disgusting
While they continue to record.

I have the space inside my body to feel
The two men, their commitment
To pleasure, absent basic comfort:
The one’s face nearly neutral, as though
His friend’s mouth and the sting of existence
Canceled each other out. Almost
Like a mannequin. Just there. 

                       On Hyde Street
Yesterday morning, walking briskly
In no clear direction, I saw a man
On the opposite sidewalk, a motorcycle
Parked at a right angle to his feet.
He put one hand on a handle, the other

On his crotch, and glared above the slow-
Moving traffic at me. The question 
In his face, its own answer. 
                        When I tell you
I don’t know what to do with my life,
I mean I don’t know how to stay inside it. 

Joy, Gary says, is a feeling of profound gratitude—
And before I can ask for that—for having come
How far I have come. I celebrate my friend 
And think at once: we should be grateful then
For surviving a country that makes of survival

A victory and not a right? We talk about
Our boyfriends, syntax, Nella Larsen’s Passing.
Gary leans across the couch to touch my chin.
We were lovers once, briefly. I look at him
Look at me. Try to love yourself, darling, 

He says. You’re going to be here a long time.