chromatographics

gay poems by mb bischoff

#🪴

3 poems

ftl

random chance meeting sweater that shimmers parties are fleeting your glances glimmer

post selfies in slack our dms vanish a coffee date ask making a plan-ish?

calls about lost work texts about gender watching your lil’ smirk my heart grows tender

shopping for red skirts sharing a small lunch enjoying my quirks i’m having a hunch…

flirting a little to see if it sticks too noncommittal? or does it just click

late night at a show we let our legs brush at the bar i chose you admit your crush

a ride to your place the tension growing sharing a small space finally knowing

nervously waiting for you to arrive fuck, now we’re dating. we instantly vibe

t4t

i read that things used to be different for us. that we used to hide behind heavy coats, from ourselves. i read that we’d get compared to cigarettes on the street in broad daylight just for walking the wrong way. things are different for us now. not because we are the majority, but because we are not, and we know that. our difference is our value.

things changed because seasons did. the old trees that once ruled the forest have fallen, been subsumed into the soil. things changed because our elders fought for us and their enemies dwindled. life is no less complicated here and now. it may be more so. but that complexity, that intricacy, that is part of what makes this worth it.

i went on a date yesterday. they had two faces and three names. his lips felt like safety and possibility and becoming. we didn’t need to connect our brains with wires to see. we spoke the same language, we knew the same songs. our bodies united like an antique lock and key, lubricated with the oil of our passion. i want more. no, i need it.

all my friends are trans. i broke up with the ones who weren’t.
they understood.

change is good. the people that don’t get that will never get us. not all change is for the better, but the potential for growth and for flourishing is all we have. the possibility that tomorrow will be a new day with new rules. and that we’ll be here for each other when it arrives. that we’ll nurture the seeds and each other. that we can.

just use mine

he’s wanted one, i think, a while still growing his, it takes its time i wonder: why not just use mine?

our parts are modular by design they’re aftermarket optimized hot-swappable and still divine

then i’m above and he’s below press into him, extend a loan tell him: touch, like it’s your own

he strokes it like a precious gift he must be worried, he’ll miss it the gratitude vibrates his wrist

he shakes as need remaps the mind and both our systems intertwine we once mistake his flesh for mine

i ask him softly if it was good he nods like i rewound the world we had made what no one could