Scrubbed you off after wearing you for a day
for the weekend
and scrubbed and scrubbed
Hearing about Frank’s sadness
and thinking about my own

When I watched you on Saturday night
pouring OJ in foggy plastic glasses
for him and him and him 
Sharing whispers
Laughing heartily
While your friends dispersed in recoil
From the gay disease
complacency, angry dancing, 
pills cut in half that do all the harm
all air, no earth

I removed shirts from my bag from this weekend
and a bundle of clothes in plastic
wet from the pool
And put each shirt
One of them printed, blue, and worn 
by your friend and my friend
Into the hamper
And found my keys
And cried

And realized that I can trust myself
When I did so much harm
to myself
by trusting you.

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