Talk In A Quiet Place

(to the Scarecrow & Tin Man)

One night after clouds
sprinkled the fire leaves
making them smolder
I and two shadows,
(friends then. . .now poorly written
letters posted too late to be news),
walked through a white cemetery.
Homes

Were clean there; twilight
showers often bathed
names on granite-storybooks.
Whispering

So that bats that hung low
from winged-trees wouldn’t know
which way to swoop,
we chatted about tomorrow’s
Tomorrow.

Restless birds kept tossing and
turning, recalling triumphs over
worms and bugs — wings aloft —
we ran beneath the blackened
Avalanche

Rippling overhead to the clearing,
its eternity absorbing
the deluge.  Hands still protecting
hair, laughing at our
Superstition

We walked across the forgotten
as fire leaves danced to the harmony
of my harmonica and the two
shadows singing Christmas
Carols.

The neighborhood echoed our songs.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow is today and my
long-ago-lost harmonica and poorly
posted letters echo a haunted portent:
Silence.

Two Equal Boys (excerpt from “On the Periphery”)

A few months after I turned twelve I recall a banal moment (whose date is wholly forgotten like a New Year’s resolution) when the shiny gleam of my childhood curiosities began to tarnish, to take on a darker patina, to age.  While still filed under curiosity this newly discovered interest and its mysterious appearance led to strange and eager investigations of objects which, until recently, ceased to exist as anything more than minutia painted onto the backdrop of my life.  This sub-category of curiosity I was to learn later that year or earlier the next was known as lust.  I found lust to be an odd emotion, dormant until mixed with the inaugural yield of testosterone.  Its arrival was both odd and enchanting; I often found myself adrift in a boat without a rudder (the consequence of idle thoughts and deficient attention), but now, now lust was the captain and I’d been demoted to deck hand, essentially parasitic lust’s adolescent host.

It crept up slowly, like an itch that can’t be reached; brought on by a passing boy, or a sound, perhaps the tenor of someone’s voice; or a smell, reminiscent of a piece of clothing someone wore and that I inhaled briefly or deeply; an odor so distinctive that I’d soldered it to my cortex.  But it never attacked, it charmed, yearned for freedom at night and returned as a daybreak half-dream like our cat’s nightly routine.  It was fun at first, a distraction to science class, a daydream to wile away minutes in the school bus; fantasies with neighbor boys who are skinned of their shirts and jeans.  What I hadn’t known was that lust wasn’t idle entertainment.  Lust required expression and freedom; lust could be caged but also required parole.  I barely noticed at first when lust was an intermission, but soon it was everywhere like crawling ivy; it edged out innocence and substituted indecency.  At first lust glowed like a nightlight but now its brightness was blinding like the spotlight of the police car behind you.  My lust became carnivorous:  Like a beast it hunted when hungry and will, if forced, scrounge or take riskier chances.  I discovered that lust could be sated quickly and privately.  Or it would wander off to hunt, rupturing trust, morality, and safety.  But once lust loses its grip, sensibility takes control like a police riot line and estimates the damage: silly actions, minimal integrity, lack of conviction paid with excuses, confessions, apologies, or a fake phone number.

One of my earliest fascinations was Robbie, a boy my age who wore a pea coat in the fall that smelled like the inside of his house.  He rarely wore jeans vying instead for plain-front khaki chinos made popular by Wally Cleaver and dark colored Ban-Lon polo’s.   Thoroughbred-brown, straight-edged hair crowned an otherwise waspy face, but he had those dreamy bedroom eyes, the kind that coax you, like quiet hand pats on cushions, to take a seat next to him on the sagging basement sofa from which extrication was impossible once it snapped shut like a Venus Fly Trap.  He was the brain behind  many mischievous pranks at St. Joe’s (our Catholic grade school).  Of course he never moved a muscle and wisely kept a safe distance from the exploding toilet, ruptured water fountain, or the infamous girl’s locker room mouse-capades.  Instead he’d delegate the execution to some of the bigger and dumber kids like Jim or Billy.  And like the suspicious neighborhood dog that discovers a chunk of meat abandoned just beyond the stoop where boys that torture cats live, I tried to imagine what might happen if I. . .and there it was!  Hidden behind those dreamy eyes like cops at-the-ready behind the billboard, were cold eyes, calculating eyes, entrapping eyes.  I grabbed my parka, tripped going up the stairs, and rushed out the door all the while hearing his cynical and cold-hearted catcalls echoing from the basement.

But the real deal, the apple of my eye was Jeff.  He was as beautiful as a boy could be and not be a girl.  He had that soft, ivory colored skin, baby-fine blond hair, cool blue eyes, and eyelashes that were the envy of all the girls.   But his smile, ah  — the smile was warm and crooked and always made one wonder what was hidden behind the grin; it was the kind one would have if he already knew the punchline.  Jeff was seduction.  Boys and girls alike were willing to cast aside moral convention just to please him.  Reciprocity was of no concern; just the opportunity to be close, to listen to his whispers, to see him waiting for you, to be his was all anyone wanted.

My chance happened  in the alley behind my house at dusk on a summer week night.  Jeff and I and a few of our friends were involved in some kind of pursuit game when suddenly both Jeff and I realized we’d been hoodwinked. The sun had just set behind a row of bungalows and an iron husk of a retired steel plant carved the last bit of sun into the crooked and bony fingers of old women.  Jeff stood on the rise of a hill, and I at the bottom in the alley. Cupping his hands around his mouth he said, “Looks as though they’ve left us.”

Taking a quick survey I finally looked up at him, “Seems like they have. What now?”

“How the hell should I know,” he snapped.

Walking up the hill to face him I said, “because they’re in your freakin’ club, is why!  Brotherhood, ain’t that your motto?”

He turned quickly and after a long moments pause said, “Hey, blow me!”

And without hesitation I blurted out the dare of all dares, “Whip it out!”

I watched his face as I heard that familiar pop of a brass snap at the top of his jeans, that notorious crawl of teeth as they fanned out from each other, and that silent stop, knowing that his jeans were now thrown open like the agitated jaws of a dog, the white of his underwear exposed  like the sharp teeth. “Stop there”  I muttered to myself, “Don’t  go any further” I wished under my breath.

I knew that no matter how often I’d drifted off to sleep thinking of him, no matter how often I had glanced quickly as he ran down the gym floor to the other basket and scored; no matter how often I risked my own humiliation to stay in the shower five questionable minutes longer to perhaps catch a brief glance at his naked body; no  matter that I tried out for wrestling just to have an opportunity to hold him once in an embrace that no one would suspect; I nearly turned and ran as fast and as far as I could. But for those thirty seconds as Jeff stared at me and as I struggled to lock my eyes on his; and to not, no matter what happened, to not look down at the front of his jeans, to keep my eyes focused like a bird dog pointing at a grouse; in those brief thirty seconds my silly little life flashed before me and although what I had wished for all those erotic, half-asleep, fully aroused nights, all those embarrassed, wall-hugging gym classes in the pool as he swam laps and sideswiped me with every turn, he was now presented to me and if I were to act I would certainly be condemned to a life I abhorred, even before I was completely aware of the consequence. One that I was certain held only loneliness and abandonment, a life of damnation, accusation and reproach.  A life of darkness.  A life of listening over your shoulder  for the snickers; of always wearing up-turned collars; nocturnal; predatory.  And I suppose as I reflect on that  incident,  the confusion that  had  really gripped  me wasn’t so much my desire versus my identity, but rather my longing versus my dream.

I so wanted him.  But not presented in that grotesque, obvious manner.   I noticed then that although my body enjoyed the sensations that another boys’ body could provide (and it was clear that there were other boys’ bodies available), there was an intricate piece missing, a small one, down in the corner somewhere, it would’ve been easily masked, an ornate frame or wide mat, or even some other piece forced to fit, but it was that piece that I searched Jeff’s eyes for:  It was in his eyes that  I saw  a  reflection  of  my own desperation:  And it was then, at that very moment that I crawled out from under his spell and separated lust and love, and realized that boys weren’t interested in matters of the heart, but instead were only interested in lusty bravado, and that any method was as good as the last or the next so long as the method wasn’t self-inflicted.

It was  then,  right  then,  that  I decided  that  although I imagined I’d enjoy all the activities associated with a sissy, I was not going to be a pansy, and if Jeff wanted me to blow him, then he was going to show me how!

I backed away from him, unzipped my jeans, yanked down my shorts, walked back over to him and stood, half-naked and double-daring. He was dumb-struck.  And then, as if the whole incident never happened, he turned around quickly and closed his pants.  “Come on,” he said, “let’s go find the other guys before they think we’re queer or something.

He started down the hill as I stood there in the deep dusk, arranging myself in my jeans, and finally running after him.  I lowered my shoulder and bumped him in the kidneys.  He hesitated for a moment, then threw himself at me and wrestled me to the ground as only two equal boys could.

Between Us (Nick Collection 1985-2012)

My boyfriend peeled

the cotton skin over

his head lifting upwards

as though he were sliding

downwards into some bronze

hole, his body a rich thick

aromatic Sunday AM coffee.

He was cold he said

as the cotton slid

down like blinds.  Dale

has AIDS he said

as he tied my arms

round his chest.  I didn’t

like him much he said.

But my arms only tightened

like a Chinese finger trap.

I’m going to lose him.

Loves Lost

 

Many nights ago,

when the moon lost her innocence

and ran behind a rock in the pond,

I sat on the edge of the grass and listened

to old frogs splash

and giggle over a prudish male.

I scratched my thoughts in sand

like a caveman drawing pictures

of his wife bathing.

But you weren’t there.

I poked sense into dirt

like horses that count for sugar,

and knew why it always rained on a picnic.

Drunks always stare at little children

and scratch their pockets on October’s last try.

Skirts like to fly —

Up here —

No here —

Up

until drunks sit by themselves

and wonder about little boys.

But you sit and watch your lovers

at the park that you slept with.

Park benches are so cold in November.

Some leaves never fall from trees,

and others, like laughter, are covered by snow.

Leaves often float downstream and catch

sunlight on each tip.  But you don’t.

And when they come to sleep in my pond,

when tips dip and fall into water

I see why you lie where you do.

So tonight,

when I walk home —

down by the street light that winks as I go,

I’ll listen to cars roar in garages

like we used to in bed.

And I will look at your bench

and smell your friends.

My laughter will be heard by no one.

I’ll remember you at Christmas time.

The Architect (3/10 – “The Other: A Collection of Doubt”)

“You’re my distraction,” Gabriel says while looking down at his tuna wrap and peeling back some of the thin paper wrapping.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nathan says acting sheepishly and fidgeting slightly against the hard and poorly designed plastic chair.  The plastic curvature mocks the male form; he feels the alleged lumbar support bend; the spindly steel legs poke through the seat like an attention-seeking child asking impossible questions.

Gabriel leans in closer, touches Nathan’s shoulder with his own, feels the cushion of cashmere and wool, and turns to catch Nathan’s darting eyes, “It’s you I think about when I’m not thinking about anything else.  It’s you that I look forward to seeing in the elevator in the morning.  It’s you that makes me feel giddy.”

“But you’re married,” Nathan admits, taking a long swallow of his pop “shouldn’t you be thinking of her?”

Gabriel laughs slightly and leans in closer, more of each other touch like vertically stacked lumber.  Quietly, Gabriel confesses, “the moment I start thinking about you, I start thinking about her.  You’re in the foreground and she’s in the background.  You’re in sharp focus and she’s rather blurry.”

Nathan stirs his curried pilaf which steams in the thin Tupperware bowl.  He moves the pilaf around the bowl slowly.  He stares at his lunch for a moment then slowly looks up at Gabriel.  “I have a girlfriend.  I think about her.”

“I’d expect you to,” Gabriel says before taking a bite from his Caesar chicken wrap.  “Just because you and I are attracted to each other doesn’t cancel out anything that came before.  Those people, Adrienne for you and Emily for me don’t just go away.  Maybe they just get set aside for a time.   Do you think about Adrienne when you think about me?” Gabriel asks unsure of the answer, though willing to bet on the answer.

“No, not always: It’s not until after that Adrienne pops into my mind,” Nathan offers.

“After what?” Gabriel asks quietly.

Nathan shifts is his chair uncomfortably.  He sits back unexpectedly and then moves quickly forward. “Don’t make me say,” he pleads.

Gabriel takes a long drink from is Diet Coke and sits back in his chair, feeling the white neoprene give way under his weight.  He suddenly becomes aware of the location of his tie and straightens it.

“You do that a lot,” Nathan says looking at Gabriel, then looking down at his cooling lunch.

“Do what?” Gabriel asks watching Nathan.

“That thing with your tie: you’re very conscious of your tie,” Nathan says looking at Gabriel.

“I like things neat,” Gabriel counters, feeling strangely naked, and again adjusts his tie.

“See?” Nathan points out, laughing slightly. “Besides, this is hardly neat.”

“What?  What’s hardly neat?” Gabriel asks feeling suddenly vulnerable and off his game.

“This.  Us. . .I mean, you and me; maybe just me. . .Jesus, this is anything but neat!  This couldn’t be farther from “neat” than if I leapt across this table and kissed you!” Nathan says sounding exasperated.

“All this about my tie?  What’re you talking about?” Gabriel asks, certain where this conversation is going, and absolutely uncertain he wants to go there.

“Listen. . .I don’t know how we got from friends. . .to. . .wherever we are. . .” Nathan says quietly, “but it makes me. . .”

“You what?  What does it make you?  Am I making you anything?” Gabriel says leaning across the table.  “Let’s go. . .” Gabriel says pushing himself away from the table.

“Where?  Back to work?” Nathan asks.

“No.  Let’s go down for a walk.”

Nathan and Gabriel place their dishes on a conveyor belt and walk silently to the elevator.  They press the down button and wait impatiently for the elevator.  “What about my work?  Shouldn’t I call?” Nathan asks.

“You’re with me.  It’s no bother.  If anyone says anything, tell them to talk to me.  Don’t worry about it.” Gabriel says as the elevator doors open.  Gabriel steps inside, but Nathan hesitates.  “Are you coming?”

Gabriel knows that this is a defining moment.  If Nathan steps into the elevator Gabriel will see this as a sign of Nathan’s interest.  The elevator doors begin to close and Gabriel reaches for the “door open” but stops.  The doors continue to close, but Nathan sticks his hand between them.

“Jesus Christ. . .” Nathan says as he steps into the elevator car.

“I’m not forcing you, you know.  This is your choice.  All yours,” Gabriel says defiantly.

The elevator doors close and they look at each other for a moment, then slowly Nathan reaches out to press the lobby button.  Gabriel can’t take his eyes off Nathan standing at the far side of the car, nervously shoving his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans masquerading any hint of interest.  Nathan turns to look at Gabriel standing at the far corner dressed smartly in a dark blue garbardine suit, crisp white shirt, subtle blue and white striped tie, polished shoes.  Gabriel places his hand into his jacket pocket when he feels himself moving, then abruptly stopping, pressed tightly against the mirrored walls of the elevator car by the dense weight of Nathan’s body.  He looks up moments before he feels the faintest touch of Nathan’s lips teasing, taunting, then finally meeting and opening his own lips, which had partially opened by his surprise.  Nathan presses himself against Gabriel and worms his hands under the tailored suit jacket, over the cotton shirt and up his back. Nathan breaks the kiss and pulls away from Gabriel as the car comes to a slow stop.  The doors open slowly as both of them step into the lobby of the building in complete silence.    Gabriel is at once self-conscious of his disheveled appearance as Nathan walks briskly ahead of him and into the bright mid-day sun.

“So, where are we going?” Nathan asks as soon as Gabriel walks through the revolving door.

“Give me a second to make a couple of calls,” Gabriel says as he walks past Nathan to the buildings overhang.  Nathan waits impatiently, pacing, wondering why in the fuck he did what he just did, but couldn’t, for the life of himself, take his eyes off Gabriel.  Gabriel dials a few numbers, speaks quickly and quietly, then places the Blackberry back into his breast pocket.  “Come on,” he says to Nathan, I know where we can go.”

Gabriel and Nathan walk down Monroe Street east until they reach the front door of the Burnham Hotel.

“You’re taking me to a hotel?” Nathan says, stopping dead in his tracks.

“I know the GM here.  He’s a good friend of mine.  We did the interior.  Yes, we’re going to a hotel, but we’re not just going to a hotel.  You’ll see,” Gabriel says, grabbing a hold of Nathan’s arm, “trust me.”