Author Information
@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; At The Drive-In Theater, Some Friday Or Saturday Night In July And August, 1976
[after Constantine Cavafy's poem, "At The Theater,"
trans. Keeley and Sherrard]
As soon as I had parked the car, and
even before the preliminary cartoons began,
you slipped your shoes off and tossed
them on to the backseat floorboard. Then
you untucked and unbuttoned your shirt. All my
inhibitions, and respect for societal expectations,
fell away as the fragrance of your socks---
midnight blue, not quite concealed by your
bell-bottom jeans' tattered cuffs---filled the
compartment. The flavor of your socks, I learned a
little while later, was just like the fragrance. So,
too, the fragrance and flavor of your eagerly
opened mouth, and the numerous kisses we
exchanged---tongues and lips now speaking the
language of Love's initiated intimacy, So,
too, the fragrance and flavor of your bared torso,
your pits, your erect nipples, now no longer
forbidden by the stupid prejudices of the
clodhoppers in our state's legislatures.
I cannot even tell you, now, the name of the
film, or what it was about; or who was talking on our
c.b. radio that night, or what about, or when.
Starward
