At An Upscale, Asian Restaurant

They keep finding ways
To hire other gays
To tend bar,
To park the car,
To bus the dishes,
To quietly call each other “bitches,”
To wait on tables,
To carry ladies’ sables.
There is eye candy
To be had — all randy.
Take your pick
To pick up a chop stick –
There is the stocky stevedore.
The surfer dude holds the door.
There is the black model so pretty.
There is the tutti-frutti cutie.
This is how they joke with each other.
They are all brothers by different mothers.
They stand by, with and for.
They call themselves The Brothers Four.
They aren’t looking for a fight
To defend their right
To be who they are.
They’ll be pushed only so far.
They will defend their right
To have a legal fight
To be who they are –
They call themselves The Brothers Four.
They don’t live in closets anymore.
This is stopping off space
To a bigger, better future place —
To professions, to the arts
To places they may ply their arts.
These men so gay,
They, God bless them, aren’t going away.

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