a sonnet for two boys at a wedding in august

 

we dance within the stairwell at the church

our bodies lurching left and right slowly

to catch a glimpse of rhythm as smokers

begin to trickle in and out with rolls

 

of sweet bread on white cocktail napkins and

reviews of bartenders. He knew the groom,

I knew the bride like the beach knows its sand.

Ten years ago we shared a tiny room

 

without a working stove, which was ok

because our block had good Chinese. The rent

was low because we lived beyond Oak Street

which seems so far from here, this dimly lit

 

Cement-enclosed little piece of nowhere,

Swaying with you while others puff and stare.