infrisibility

for all intents and purposes, i am the tag on a goodwill blazer
slipping insipidly through layers of polyester
splitting in half at the most inconvenient of times
myself? i'm made of unrecycled plastic. i hang upon hangers like thorns on a vine

i remember that friends of mine are married
getting or going; done and gone
i remember that it's my time to make a showing
i remember all of the reasons why not

but i'm not the kind of person people go to a wedding to see
i'm hardly the kind of person who makes that showing at others' occasions
the general populace may think of us as noncommital, nontraditional, nonofficial
but it's because we've got nothing to show, nothing to see

we found each other on clearance, in a bargain bin
we fell in love with the entrapment of the idea
that all this work we've done is unrepeatable
straight people are so, so...repeatable

to think of making out invitations
(to think of making out in front of them all)
to think of choosing a suit
to think of asking people, will you come look at me?

my god. i cannot imagine the aggrandizement.

the only way for me is this one, right here.

i have a wife. we live in separate apartments.