PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after Constantine Cavafy's poem, "Days Of 1909, '10, And '11"]

1. July 4, 1976

In about five short, but long, summer days,

I would launch my independence from the stays

to which I had been held fast by the incremental,

reactive opinions spoken by mouths parental

against the refreshment of life's river's mists and sprays.

2.  July 5, 1976

Monday:  some "independence day" observance!

my parents "grounded" me to the house, confined

without you; forbidden to mention your name.

My nineteen days past the age of consent meant

nothing much to them.

3.  July 6, 1976

Tuesday, workday once more; and time away from

you too much to bear; and not nearly enough

together; my parents' rage, seething, was soon

to lose control, and lose control of me and

who I chose to love.

4.  July 7, 1976 

Accused of choosing to live "faggotly"---

proved by my recent love of poetry---

I think my parents were struck with the fear

that I was no longer "the little boy around here."

The way they muttered, between grit teeth, my name,

mundane and steeped in a sense of sordid shame;

as if, to enclose me, they wished to disburse

upon me some muddled-class suburban curse.

5.  July 8, 1976

The major failure of their strategy---

with more than seventeen years' history---

I announced that morning, quite courteously,

"No college, no freshman year for me,"

unless I purchase, with my own work-earned cash---"

a choice they considered rebellious and rash---

"during Gold Circle's sale, a Midland C. B."

6.  Intermezzo And Scherzo Before The Poem Climaxes

They asked me if I had considered what the neighbors might think.

I said I suspected that our neighbors were not capable of thought;

for I knew that I stood at the edge, the threshold, the brink

escape from beneath their shadow, under which I had been long caught.

7.  July 9, 1976

Evening; the purchase complete; and the installation

by my Beloved's skillful brother-in-law:

I first heard channel twenty-two's welcoming call,

on that eve of my identity's liberation. 

From starlight, BlueShift you came to guide me to find

the name beyond the reach of that to which I had been assigned.

8.  July 10, 1976 (1)

My mother had spoken the shrillest of curses

upon BlueShift's friendship, and the inspiration

to lead me through that evening when I came

to the first, bestowed appellation;

freed of my mundane, and confining name

upon which she could not assert a claim

(as I trespassed on her most cherished fear---

to lose control of the "little boy around here").

C.B.---love's desire---adolescent verses:

she deemed these, taken as a combination,

as a perversion, and a local scandal;

expressed, summed up for her, in my new handle;

that gave me new hope, and also served to botch her

plans to stifle me further:  thus she despised "Starwatcher."

9.  July 10, 1976 (2)

As if ancient keys had turned, releasing their tarnished locks---

so that I felt less awkward, nor guilty, to enjoy the thrill

when BlueShift's shoes slipped from his midnight blue socks:

no longer a forbidden pleasure, now to be partaken at will.

10.  Weekend Evenings, July And August, 1976

I cannot recall all the titles of the

double features we viewed at the Melody

Drive-In; and the large pizza and salad bar

at "The Pub," after midnight, delicious (and

reasonably priced---

one of the few dine-in's we could, then, afford).

After those late meals, we drove along the township's

rural backroads, with the c.b. tuned into

channel twenty-two.  You slipped your shoes off and

unbuttoned your shirt,

drawing the flaps back and propped your feet up on

the dashboard.  The glow of the c.b. and the

combination of starlight and, sometimes, a

little moonlight, on those sultry weekend nights,

illuminated

the beauty of your midnight blue socks' tight cling

to the contours of your well-shaped feet, which---more

than the films and the food we had earlier

enjoyed---made this experience as lasting

(at least for me) as

delightful variations of the lunar

phases, and the grandeur of the stellar sky

(beyond the prejudice of haters and prudes)

where my new love for you, BlueShift, found its

constellated words, during those early and

superlative days and nights of my starwatching. 

Starward

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