PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

How many parts of how many drive-in movies on

how many weekends had I missed after you had

taken your square-heeled shoes off and unbuttoned and

untucked your shirt from your baggy jeans, and then

propped your feet (midnight blue socks) on the dashboard?

Despite the homophobic prejudices of that time and place,

I wanted to kiss your bare torso (especially those

prominent circlets of pleasure), to receive the profuse

surges of your SweetSpray at either the north or south

entrances (so long as your inner core's confection

became a permanent part of me). Then quickly and

urgently followed my desire to enjoy---revel in---the

fragrance and flavor of your unshod socks that clung

provocatively to the contours of your feet; and to

thrust against that soft, warmed fabric until my lofter

launched on to it seven surges of glistening streaks like

meteors' contrails upon summer's starlit skies.  Too

often too many craven hesitations gathered to prevent and

obstruct my expression of the love I wanted to give you---

love you so worthily deserved, despite the objections of my

parents and their neighbors who thought they knew you ("his

"kind and that love are, quite obviously, unacceptable")

better than I did.  Ancient love poets, homophiles, and the

even more ancient stars declared tacitly the privilege of

admitting my feelings to you; and having failed the given

access to intimacy in that compact car's compartment that

night in that drive-in theater, in the time we were together,

I have only these gathered words now that we have been

forced apart . . . .

J-Called