Hug

It’s a good day for a hug,

raining though thin flannels,

gray and autumn drizzled on a rusty bicycle

chained to lean forlornly on the fence.

I’m gay today, but that’s just another day, really,

and I want to hold that You in an embrace,

that You I assume (with no small amount of entitlement)
I will meet or have met.

It’s a good day for a hug,

whether you are a hugger or not,

when the concussion machine

fills every neighbor’s mouth across the country,

and traumatic injuries compound.

No one smells good,

not on their own,

without the help of commodities

if you have never learned what someone’s body smells like.


September 22