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
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