Coffee and Snow

Coffee and Snow

The Columbia Tower—hogs up the horizon. The Darth Vader Building—looming up into the Seattle skyline.

Standing beneath it—looking straight up. How many times have I stood there—letting myself get dizzy looking up at the zooming sky?

The years go by—the twenty-first century has me by the balls. That first decade 2000-2010 a real pisser—Jaysus Christ how I hated that first ten years.

That decade was the Darth Vader Decade for me—the Columbia Tower was my Death Star Man. I became a gay widow then—after almost three decades of divine domestic brotherhood.

He was my soul-brother—my Big Daddy boy. When he died—I ended up in the Viennese sewer with Harry Slime. I became the Third Man—stuck in The City Without Tears. Whoever said gays are “gay”—what stupid fools?

Now another decade comes rumbling through my life—like the 107 from Rainier Beach. Except it’s the Light Rail, man—sleek and fast. Down went Holly Park—and the dark side of me.

Funny how it works out this way—starting off a lonely young gay. Then three decades—of domestic pride and partnership. Ending up at the End—the same way I came in.

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