I drift across the day room and settle on a couch in front of the
Lucy and Ricky slug it out in the gender wars of the 1950’s.
“I juss wan’ choo to be ma wife, Loosy.” Ricky croons; and Lucy
is, with all the weaponized femininity she can muster.
My doctor arrives.
He’s an arrogant middle class man who tells me I define
myself by pain; that I just lost two friends to a virus killing
everyone I know is incidental.
No one in his world is grieving the death of fags.
In his world, fags are cautionary tales on the evening news: I am
what happens to perverts.
“You moof from walla pain to walla pain,” he says, with a vaguely
I want to shove my fist through his skull, but I widen my eyes and
agree like a good little Lucy putting the hit on Ricky for a new
I just want to get out of here.
I will suck up to the staff like a five-year old who knows he’s cute.
I will swallow their pills and get fat on hetero-sexist sanity.
I am smart enough to stop trying to force them to act behave like
In 1986, HIV was spreading quickly; by the end of that year, 11,932 people, most of them gay and bisexual men, had died from AIDS.
Rob Goldstein (c) 2018 All Rights Reserved
Still shot from ‘I Love Lucy’ is in the public domain
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