I squint at the clouds and wait for the next bus. If I had a dime, okay maybe a quarter, for every awful thought, I’d buy us a house somewhere in the South. I’d tell off your boss, maybe get you fired. We’d never look back. I’ve never felt better; you’ve never felt worse. Well, so what? I never feel better, you never feel bad. Well, so what? It’s stronger than girls; it’s colder than boys; it’s queerer than you and I combined. It’s crueler than death and colder than life. It’s meaner than us. It’s gay like Dad; it’s torturing Mom, forgotten like both. It’s judgements that stick. It’s doctors who kill. It’s patterns that won’t repeat again.