I'm driving with Diego and he's telling me about an overlook he's been to. We're driving back from up north after picking me up from home in JC. As the landscape and highway signs begin to look unfamiliar, I get a feeling we somehow might've taken the long way. We did.
It turns out this is part of Diego's commute from work, and here we are, driving past bougie ass homes while our lil caramel asses just drool over the luxuries that greet us along the road. He tells me you can see everything from up there and how soothing the view can be. I think I've been there before, I think to myself; that overlook where I saw my first shooting star.
"If you ever wanna take a boy there it's called washington rock."
and my heart melts at the fact he created a scenario that I can relate to. His intention is sweet. It's comforting.
It's a relief from the daily conversations with straight men that circulate me where my experience as a queer man falls as an after thought.
I guess the reason why his words mean more is because he's looking out for me. So I sit there and listen.
"Yeah.. that's why you gotta find someone with a car and just go on a spontaneous trip."
I sit there and envision the endless possibilities of what ifs. But the future feels like a ghost, so I just sit
and listen.
