Page 113 of The Black Flamingo

---

from this man in touch with something

that many men will never figure out, but

one phrase he said is stuck in my head.

“I’m not gay”

“I’m not gay but”

“but”

“but, men”

“men”

“men, we can understand each other.”

I know before I say it, why I’m saying it.

Because I feel there’s a connection.

Why did he say he doesn’t have a girlfriend?

Why has he been talking to me for so long?

“But you’re not straight, are you?” I blurt out,

interrupting him, but not with a kiss.

He stops speaking, then opens his mouth,

closes it, looks to the floor, then back to me.

Can he see my longing? My curiosity?

Can he feel the connection or have I

constructed something out of nothing?

“Mike, you’re a beautiful man, interesting

and talented, too; I’m enjoying talking to you.”

I smile until I realize he’s deflected

the question with compliments and before

either one of us can say any more,

Simon reappears. “Oh good, you’re still here.

We’re heading back. Are you coming, Jack?”

And that’s the only question he needs to

answer. Here is his escape route without

causing any offense. And I prepare myself

---