I MET MY LONG LOST BROTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME LAST YEAR. by Dyllan Moran • Cleaver Magazine
No kissing, though we both know that we want to. You show up at my house wearing the exact same thing as on your Grindr profile. Pink hat, cheap diamond earrings, and then, too, a familiar look that steadily steams underneath my grandmother’s eyes. It’s the multiplicity of place as body -- or how when you close your eyes you can convince yourself that you’re lying in a star-streaked field—that convinces me I love you.
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