Categories: Gay Writes


By Bob Borgogno

I am able to say that sitting at the train platform, looking forward with my head in good posture, eye-to-crotch level, I am filled with Inertia. Funky looking, big labia, covered in baggy, see-through patterned fabric.

The days of girls having rugs is over, I suppose.

Guys in thin fabric shorts, wearing underwear so tight that there’s a no show of junk up front. Others with no underwear, wearing jeans with fade spots from where the guy has been grabbing his dick for a quick pull or pinch.

Most of the time, it’s pretty much androgynistic. Not fun. Yet, there I sit. Filled with Inertia. It only seems to attach its forces at the least convenient times like when I wake up, naturally, without some horrid sound blaring at me from the alarm clock. I open my eyes, yet Inertia keeps my body immobile. It knows I have to pee, but it doesn’t care.

Inertia isn’t as easily escapable as one might think. It’s more powerful than gravity!

Inertia is also in my mind. One small irritating thing to intrude on my pleasant thoughts and ‘slap!’ I am irritated for days and days. Now the mental Inertia I experience is applicable to all varieties of thoughts and emotions, which I dare not start listing. Mostly due to the fact that Inertia makes me physically lazy and my hand can only write a few sentences before becoming stiff, achy, and still for no specific amount of time.

Inertia is such a bitch. It fills me while I’m having my morning coffee. I’ll turn on the TV to check the weather, then I’ll turn the channel to PBS, which will have some string of subtitled French and Italian murder and cop shows on. Suddenly I cannot move.

Inertia wants me ill. I’ll take a lovely big draw from my electric cigarette, then ‘slap!’ I cannot take it from my mouth until the battery runs out.

I am certain I would be someone’s stalker if Inertia didn’t interfere.

Inertia wants to kill me. When I’m walking down the sidewalk, I’ll approach a busy intersection and suddenly I cannot change my speed or direction or even stop. So far, I’ve only been hit by one car.

Inertia is a murderer. My late acquaintance Moo Moo Lady would agree. Inertia murdered her and wants to murder me.

Gay Writes is a DiverseCity Series writing group, a program of SLCC’s Community Writing Center. The group meets the 2nd and 4th Monday of each month, 6:30-8 p.m., 210 E. 400 South, Ste. 8, Salt Lake.


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