By Jameson Fitzpatrick

Privilege is a man
taking up two seats on the train.
Now four, putting his feet up.

It is also my not having
to describe his leather loafers for you
to fill in the white space of his body
straight and able

and also my body’s proximity
to his, socially and physically,
on this train he is taking from
the Hamptons and I am taking
from the Pines. And how

my finding him handsome
keeps him handsome,
that if he were to look my way,
his would be worth more to me
than any other gaze.

What I’m trying to say is
proximity is the problem with White Gays.
I’m one of them, so I can say that.

Proximity, because it promises
the possibility of arriving
where all the room in the world
waits to be claimed.

Privilege is a tease, we forget,
what we learned in grade school.
Even spread in his lap,
everything for the taking
taken from someone.