[In memory of him, 1950-2017]
Late into my lifetime's final stage, I will put
in words: nineteen seventy-one through seventy-three,
I enjoyed an intense crush on David Cassidy;
and though our romance was only a fantasy,
it was more satisfying than my reality---
considering the rampant homophobia
(parental and in my school), that, aggressively,
suspected (with prejudiced accuracy)
that I (a bookworm, awkward and ugly) should be a
"one of them." I dreamed (dry and wet) of intimacy
(naked and not shy), with David; and that he
might sing his finest love songs to, and just for, me
as he posed for those erotic publicity
photographs in tight shirts, supple jeans, and . . . barefoot!
J-Called