Untitled

Ryan Jae

homosexual shame & swimming lessons

Nico Léger

a wave pool of floating bodies & bandaids but the chlorine is 12% alcohol. a world of lifeguards without whistles, our throats bearing to the high ceilings & gushing in an overflow. the joke about intentionally drowning so the hot lifeguard will kiss you: some nights, i will drown so that anyone will kiss me. some nights, i will float on my back and pray for sparks of lightning just to find home. i can’t keep up with eight feet of water if i am only 60%, the rest all smooth skin & slender bone & a gaze that wishes to overlook molding bodies if it means they float between us like a buoy.

last night, J & i sat at the edge with only our feet in the water. like cats, too scared of drastic temperatures and the way our hair will look drenched in fear. i told him that i am tired of staying above the surface & what if tonight i go under? J said he’d kiss a boy if my life depended on it.