Let’s hear it for the slutboys. For all the hipster beardies slurping peebers on tattered basement couches. All the twinks hurling themselves at boys like walls, sloshing rosé. All the sober otters and road-worn chubs found chain-smoking, legs dangling from rooftops downtown like matchsticks. Let the city burn. Music: Sylvester. Club queens ballistic. Snatched little angels puking in gold-leaf toilets, shitshow frescos. Turn up for the holy glory only found in dive bar glory holes. Cyan karaoke slingers. Backseat truckstop fuckers. Dartboard pinup boys. Let’s hear it for the harnessed pigs swimming in seas of sweat and slop, hot pink thongs and wet mesh barebacks. For cotton candy lace fronts, second hand nylons: Sissy’s first time in drag stumbling stilettos. Body electric. Lip sync fantastic. Mic drop death drop dick bump listen up. This is for the gaymers and geeks in dark bar corners toggling cocks like Xbox controller sticks, deftly fingering schoolboy come-ups. All the boys on knees tonguing black clone boots, concrete on cheek, a newfound sin. All the clubs, churches. All the strobe lights penance heaven sent. Drinks like Sunday wine, drunken gear night chainlink church choir. Sing Come on. Sing Mighty real. Sing Somewhere over the rainbow there’s sweat there’s blood there’s cum there’s dirt. Above all, there’s slutboys. Every form of worship: the body. Mineshaft. Rockaway. Look at how their hips sway: fairies and faggots reconfiguring sadness susurrating leather. Scruff on scruff, tongue in cheek, hand in the bush, blood of my blood. No other way. No day but today. Our histories live in our bodies the only way they know how: moving. Constant. In my slutboy mouth, a thousand homos’ clenched fists. In my scrawny slutboy arms, the strength of Stonewall bricks cracking glass like shame. In my slutboy hips, a thousand Castro queens, late night wine-drunk on tattered yellow mattresses pontificating action. When you slice my slutboy wrists, red satin sheets unfurl like sunsets. When you graze my slutboy cock, a whole history stands at attention. When you call me a slut, I slay you with silence, make my own magic, dig graves with my laugh.