It’s mid-day at St. Leo’s Church.
Reggie Lauderdale cleans the colourful, windowpane cherubs. His right hand is wrapped in wads of paper towel, like a bandage.
I watch him wipe away the grunge so new beautiful glows can penetrate.
“Hey …”
Reggie wheels around.
Vern shivers. His nails are tipped in grime.
“Oh, hi,” Reggie’s face cramps. “How you been?”
“Same as ever.”
“You seem sort of … funny today.”
funny“Am I makin’ jokes or some thang?”
“No …”
No Vern lunges. Reggie can smell the remains of a steak bomb submarine sandwich.
Vern asks, “You been wonderin’ ‘bout me?”
“A little bit.”
“I’ve thought ‘bout you too.”
“Really?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” Vern says and sighs.
“Like how?”
Vern tells him, “Look, I can’t be no queer.”
Reggie replies, “You know, I’ve felt just like you.
