Death at the Door
Nobody was tending to him,
the slightly twisted man
sprawled on the sidewalk,
so I presumed he was dead,
blood around his mouth
and a small pool on the ground,
two doors down from a gay club.
Two cop cars there, but they were
only interviewing potential witnesses.
I walked on, knowing
I wouldn’t stop thinking about him.
He was young, beefy
on this first day of Pride weekend.
Marriage passed in New York state.
Did someone take it out on him?
Or was it personal?
His friends didn’t seem to be around.
No shock. No sadness. Just an
oddly twisted young man
with nobody helping him.