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.