Diva and I had planned to have dinner tonight,
but we aren’t. We are sitting beside each other
at a white plastic table on white plastic chairs
wishing for water. She is the color, and I
am the quiet, even though we both draped rainbows
around ourselves (hers a feather boa and mine
a sarong gone wrong right around my neck),
even though neither of us has get-up-and-go
enough to talk. We text. She sends me Poké gifts,
and I say thank you. She says for what, and I flash
my phone so she can see we’re both in the same app.
We roll our eyes at the same time. We drip. We drift.
We cheered the drag queens, hot sun on glitter and sequins.
Drag queens still dance, music pounds, but us? We are done.
Sonnet form: Bowlesian