Morning Outing with Mum

we are at a cafe        just round
the corner from hampstead
heath                     & sipping berry sunrise
smoothies    out

of soggy paper straws        we
are watching tangles of cockapoos
too many       north london
mums    boys i went to school

with     disguised by full grown
beards        we speak about
my studies      ahmed         butler
nelson    vuong  (I even use the word

teleological)        mum appears
impressed         i press my      now useless
straw into my glass
pick at a strawberry seed

wedged in my teeth           mum is
being weird          quiet
contemplative     she is half
smiling      i fiddle with my rings

uneasy   the waiter seems angry
a child has thrown chips
on the floor            the child is very pleased
about this      i am unsure what to feel

for a moment       i find myself
wishing             i could be
so demonstrative
i sit         silence

it feels as though
mum has something to say
i look      to the chips on the floor
she inhales.                                                        ‘I have to ask… are you gay?’

i guess

we have found
a language       of sorts
critical theory       as ice breaker
or bull-dozer more like

of the walls i’ve built        &
suddenly          all the mums
are laughing at me      i am naked
the dogs are growling

mum has changed the subject
it is not still      me
i am tired              hoping the outing is
almost over

&  then      she shuffles in
her seat                  i brace
there is more
i assume girlfriend        maybe sex or-                               ‘and, are you a they/them… yet?’

the cockapoos have pooled
together                 each is carrying an item
of my clothing        on its back over
parliament hill      i see a doberman

approach the cafe        fear for the
skin         that coats          my
flesh        smoothie gloop
residue on glass

i have realised mum was never
impressed
i  am realising       the irony
i will come to realise     this smoothie

always had a telos

seems almost funny to me now
that    t e l o s   is an anagram
              for  s t o l e

Arlo Kean (@_akeano_) is a community development worker and creative based in London. They are currently particularly interested in queer embodiment, kinship and loose forms of life writing. Their work can be found in t’Art Magazine and elsewhere