In “Shoulder2Shoulder,” we continue our exploration of friendship and homosocial intimacy between men. We question male camaraderie, taking aim, in particular, at the pop-culture construct of the bromance and esprit de corps within sports related activity. By eliminating the need to end our jokes with an acknowledgement of the hetero, we search for a re-imagined future form of a relationship, one that involves a more inclusive form of queer embodiment.

This dissolve, a spinning relief, the chaos made one, two remain two, but together they say one.

The bell tolls. I walk to you and kneel on your butt. I lift your shirt and pour black liquid into the small of your back. I lower my mouth to it, my lips pressed against the sweet, sticky, viscous liquid, and then I blow. I pull your shirt down, and we stand up. I kick my feet while spinning in a circle, clockwise. Catch my foot with your hands. Spit black liquid onto my shoe, smearing it around with your face. Release my foot. Now we’ll embrace, hands on shoulders, bending to our knees. We crouch down to the floor, as we lower our faces to sponges. Wipe left, wipe right, left, right, left. We stand up, biting the sponges with our teeth, then grab them and wipe each other’s faces. We pull each other’s pants down. We reach and dip into nutella, then back to each other, smearing and lathering our inner thighs. Look forward and up. Step away and pick up a Gatorade bottle, then step back towards me. I crouch down a bit. Now lean into me. I’ll lift you up on my shoulders, your legs apart. Keep one hand on me. With the other, squeeze the bottle, expelling its contents in a circle on the canvas below. We spin counterclockwise. I put you down, and we stand side by side. We reach into each other’s pants, pulling athletic cups from inside our underwear. We cross arms and each crack open a beer, then lift them to our faces, pouring the beer through the other’s cup and into our mouths. We walk off as the bell tolls.