the women I desire in my dreams are alwayswhite. they wait like cutlery in            well-organized drawers, free of other            bodies— a spectacle of muscled            mares. theatre after theatre, the women’swhite limbs dazzle in swimwear, sleek            as champion horses. the women more discerning than            the breeders—white-gloved and disciplinary.            I have this fantasy where I’m force-            fed what’s best for me, plain porridge tricklingwhite-hot trails down my off-white neck. in the dream I grid            facts into a notebook until I            disappear inside its guiltlesswhite pages, as if to tumble down the throat            of a toilet or a glass hallway. until 2017            every Mr Gay World winner waswhite. before 1930 every Hong Konger living above            a specified altitude on Victoria Peak was alsowhite. I fall and fall. each way I turn, a scrawny            foal collides with a mirror, the shockwhitening its breast.