I want to be behind the recovery center with him.
We would smoke a pack of menthols
because of his bronchitis & laryngitis
& because I like the way they smell
A fag for a fag we’ll say
as we cross cigs and take a pull.
I want to hear him say
“Do you think I can climb that?”
while pointing at the six-foot fence that leads to the outside.
He wants to leave & I won’t get in the way
I would give him a boost
& he would be on the other side to catch me.
I want to get the hospital bracelets that would still be on us
tattooed on our wrists, so we wouldn’t forget.
I would ask the tattoo artist to hand Kurt the needle.
He would decorate me the way he did vehicles & banks.
Jesus is gay & God is gay on my forearms
& my chest would read HOMOSEXUAL SEX RULES.
I want to be with Kurt.
He says that if it wasn’t for Courtney, he’d be bisexual.
But I’m bisexual.
We would hold hands during cab rides around Seattle.
We would avoid the paparazzi and private investigators
by tipping our hats and going in for a kiss.
I want Kurt to teach me how to use a shotgun.
How to put in the shells.
How to cock it.
How to make sure I wouldn’t be here.
He would show me how to write a note,
but I really wouldn’t need Kurt for that.
It’s just that sometimes I want to be like Kurt.
My mind and memories splattered for only a few to see.
Trey (Tralen) Rhone is a Writing and Linguistics graduate of Georgia Southern University and is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Florida International University. Tweets infrequently at @TreyRho.