I took a boy home last night. He didn’t
stay. So, in turn I am wondering and waiting, expecting and aching. And all the
other stuff we call ‘life’? Forgotten. All thrown by the wayside for this very
unlikable boy. Do I decide for these men to always take precedence? I remember
fixations on boys—obsessions. And then I remember not caring a month later.
Perspective is, once again, lost.