days that never end (for david bowie)

there were three bars, the run,

the diamond, and the stage door.

omaha’s queer bars. the run and

diamond were blue collar. the

stage door was the best disco

between chicago and denver.

when the queens were high

enough and drunk enough, we

kissed the boyfriends goodbye,

helped them with their furs and

pushed them out the door. it

was never soon enough. their

religion was dancing. we had to

be more profound. we had the

place to ourselves. the two of us,

drinking scotch, eating white

crosses and smoking good weed.

we played the clash, lou reed,

iggy pop, and a lot of dylan and

bowie on the stereo. we connected.

it was our space oddity for three and

a half hours. we never kissed and

never got naked. we were

heroes that lived outside the law.

something was happening and we

weren’t sure what it was. young

americans looking for a way out.

that was how it was in the

beginning. since then, things have

changed, but to this day he’s

still my only dance partner.

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