pride

Orlando, mi amor

Orlando, mi amor,

I heard, about the shooting. Sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner.

They say the gunman had seen you kiss.

It made me think of us again. Those tentative first touches, your smell, hearts racing. But outside the bed so brutal, my silly rationalizations: Public displays of affection are just vulgar, I said, it’s not about being less gay. 

Lo siento, mi amor. Of course it was. About being less gay. About the terror. I was terrified when you tried to kiss me at the station.

And then te acuerdas, that time I fell asleep on the bus, my head resting on your shoulder? I woke up to an angry voice, I did wake up, that white guy yelling at us, perverts, burn in hell, you yelling back. Hearts racing. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep, only later asking qué pasó?

Lo siento, mi amor. I’ve been so proud of you. And I’ve been so ashamed of myself, for not fighting more, fighting for our love. 

But now, writing this, I also see that eyes closed pretending to sleep, I at least remained with my head on your shoulder. At least I did that. While you yelled back. I hope you felt that. 

And next time we meet, Orlando, for old times’ sake, for a future, let’s do a public display of affection. Hell, I’ll even sing your favorite song. Bésame, bésame mucho.



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Short fiction & happy Pride!

Gay Flash Fiction just published a short text of mine, “TGV to Geneva”. I recommend reading it while listening to You Wish by N.O.W.
I hope you find the text subtly sexy. I sometimes feel the shame that society still attaches to sexuality and alternate sexuality such as gay sex in particular, but I will not let it restrict me. The publication coincides with Pride, a celebration that originates in the struggle of sexual and gender minorities. When I write - gay erotica or other texts - I will write under full name.
Happy Pride!