Supa’s hand is in mine,
as I trail behind her. Surrounding us,
small reunions burst like fireworks:
“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!”
“How long has it been? I’ve missed you, my heart!”
I saunter through the crowd,
thumb resting just above the pocket
of my high-rise jeans, loose against my hips.
My dad vibes are strong tonight.
Though the faces are unfamiliar,
I return their smiles warmly.
The air is a muted, multicolored haze.
I hear them before I see them:
“No, definitely not gay…”
“You think so?”
The first fragment
echoes 20 times at least
before I turn around.
A woman in sunglasses
and her partner covered in shadow.
I can’t even see their eyes,
but their gazes are lazer beams,
scanning me up and down, side to side.
impressed even, a few minutes later,
that these two strangers would dare stare
and stand resolute, speculating on my sexuality
as if guessing the next song to be played.
I notice my palm has left Supa’s,
and I’m staring at the floorboards,
no longer knowing
what to do with my hands.