ally

We’re young and new

and feel like you do when every little thing

has the gravity to knock you off the ride,

and not fall

but fly into 100 new futures.

We sit after ordering the same ole,

lacking things to fiddle with,

so he wrangles the real reason down from the atmosphere and onto the table,

the real news that’s not news to me.

“I’m gay. And I’m a ‘they’.” they say, with a pink flush and a shaky smile,

“I know. I will.” I stumble,

it felt right and it felt lacking.

We’re careening now, into future number whichever,

the one with vibrant truths

and tones of grief, shades of gender, and a job for me.

I look into their gray-blue gaze

and suddenly, sadness --

their fabric of gray areas, white lies, red flags, and greener pastures

was bound to fray. But wouldn't it anyway?

Our same ole arrives

as we realize

nothing will ever be the same.