disclaimer: The following poem was written before my GYN appointment -
in which I found out that I'm okay.
We flit in and out
and words pass between us and
the sharing of beers
is a frequent occasion.
And occasionally I consider
telling you
The secret I don't want to tell you.
But then your talk turns to
"gay men are bitchy"
and I don't think
I'm interested anymore
and actually I think I'll walk out the door
without saying goodbye.
And you will never know
about the lump in my breast.
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