It distresses me that you will never lust after me
the way you did for that girl
who had her hands around your belt
two evenings ago—
and when I made tea for us both
so we can talk about the nice film
we caught by chance on HBO,
I said a prayer and pretended
the spoon banging against the glass
was a church bell:
God, toss this ugly queer a boner.
I will even catch it with my mouth.
I stirred longer that I should have.
While talking to him, I delighted
in his presence, but thought it pitiful
that we must spend it like this,
clothed and not fucking.
What a vile existence he and I live!
Drinking tea, speaking of cinema,
and not fucking!