Ninety-Three

returning from

Massachusetts

we were steaming up

the windows with drunkenness

filling the inside

of your little white car

up to whiffy with fog

who remembers the verbal offense

or which of us was offended?

most likely it started

with a misinterpreted dance floor glance

and misunderstanding

became name calling

and name calling

became fist swinging

a ridiculous way to fight

two boxers seated

belted and belting

between us one pair of eyes on

the road

the other pair scarlet bulges

we lost control

and you lost control

car losing highway

and while vision remained

at the speed of life

observing the stand of trees

becoming more prominent in the windshield

an abandoned and pointless jersey barrier

flirting with white paint to my right

a few grit-weighted orange plastic barrels

waving hello and goodbye to your left

with a rude quickness

but the sound

the sound of it

went all slo mo

and I could hear individual leaves

and grass blades

and pebbles

on the undercarriage as

we skated and sheared to a stop

until a smallish boulder

more stupidly placed than any barrier

or barrel

kissed a dent into front bumper

slurry rage

hastily focused

into pin point panic and expectation

four shoulders and two necks

waiting for the sting

of strobing electric blue lights

tensed for a burn that never came

relaxing slowly

hesitantly

the rest of the silent trip home

then

barely in the door

shedding and stripping clothes

in a violence of kindness and hunger

God was mentioned

as we rutted like boar

in the kitchen

tusks scraping in broken sweat

in the broken dawn

and for years

I could not see that bumper

could not look upon that dent

without feeling a little aroused

without getting a little wood

Typo

now

I know it's heresy in

some parts but

I'm not an Elton John

fanatic

but that's what we listened to

the night we met

our best night

and your name is Daniel

funnily enough

and you are older than me

lying on a green carpet

that was even then

decades

out of vogue

a matted flattened collection of stains

at the tail end

of a silly party

aborted for

a lack of alcohol

yawns

and departures

and settled-for pairings

gropings

peeled our friends away

and we talked

we listened

we told our lives

spilled it freely

shared it messily

I think I was too tired

to polish

or puff up

or pose

and my guard was low enough

to abandon the false boldness

of the newly out boy

not just company

but communication

and not just communication

but communion

now

I know it's strange to

some folks but

I'm not a blond fanatic

you had a boyfriend anyways

but he was not in attendance

and cute you were

cute that yellow hair was

like a kid's wiffle cut

with a dash of punk

and I was very happy

just to be there

in the free mess

after that night

our deck of Queens shuffled itself

and we danced

and hung

and threw shade

in one another's periphery

for week after week

sufficiently distracted

as gay boys are

you by your fella

me by a long chain of changing pheromones

attentions deflected enough

to prevent a questioning thought

or stolen glance

some months later

by pure chance

and an odd quirk of nightclub clique pecking order

you cheerfully drove me home

and we chatted again

I think you took the long way

I'd forgotten you said

as I creaked the car door open

Forgotten what? I puzzled

That you were so nice

with a smile daring

nearly desperate in its openness

and a watery glimmer

a liquid twinkle

standing in your blue eyes and coating your voice

and I was still young enough

to be old fashioned

still green enough

for hesitation

too callow

to appreciate the rarity of such

forthright interest

and up to my little apartment I ran

I just wanted you to know

how often I think of never

Puff

discovery

was the fuel

that made our engine go

and it was

the rocket grade stuff

driving pistons

rods

and lifters

with reasonable efficiency

and ain't that what sex is?

tiny explosions

and the mitigation of friction

the transfer of energy through

intake

compression

ignition

and exhaust

and I bet we looked like

a harebrained clockwork

two fledglings

a pair of not quite men

pumping

and chugging and chuffing

under childrens' sheets

The Dukes Of Hazzard

of hazard

I recall smelling

our carbon based

emissions

diesel soot

you could almost see

on the walls

scent you could

spread on toast

by sticking a butter knife

into the open room

like fossil fuels

it was a powerful revolution

but alas

unsustainable

and the pollution

the shame and dinged pride

of unmet expectations

soon conspired with time

to gum and seize

our comely contraption

our infernal combustion