PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

During that unusually balmy Spring, 1977,

I walked to the nearby optometrist's shop

to have the frame of my eyeglasses adjusted

(the frame had been bent, loosened, in a

clumsy move on my part, and now the

awkwardly loosened fit had become aggravating.

That morning, I put on a pastel polo shirt, and

baggy, faded blue painters' pants, (then very

fashionable among college students, and this

was the spring term of my freshman year).

For most of the day, I carried---rather than

wore---my flipflops.  My pants' tattered cuffs

did not entirely conceal my quickly sole-grimed feet.

At the shop, I was greeted by the optometrist's

assistant, who, alone, was working there that day.

At once, I felt a spark, a connection, without

regard to the homophobic prejudice rampant in that

small college town.  The assistant was beautiful to

look at:  with deep eyes, a provocative smile, and a

profusion of blonde hair, cascading well below his

shoulders.  He said the repair could be made with no

charge, and invited me into one of the private

consultation rooms.  Sockless, he slipped his deck

shoes off before sitting across the small table; and

beneath the table, our bare feet touched and then

began to randomly caress and tease each other.  He

took his time adjusting my glasses; and the words

we exchanged were sultry, and very allusive to the

nature and its desires that we shared.  He, too had

felt a crush, some few years before, toward David

Cassidy; he, too, since before kindergarten, had

felt that we was "different" without being, then,

able to explain.  The explanation came, as it did for

me just before adolescence.  As he checked the

adjustment's fit, his fingertips touched my face and

both of us pretended that several adjustments might

need to be tried.  I asked him if he knew where

North Hall was, and he did.  I told him my room was

one hundred twenty, and my roommate was leaving at

about five o'clock for the whole weekend.  The

optometrist's assistant said the adjustment

should be rechecked a bit later for accuracy and

comfort; and he arrived, and he was barefoot (as I

was still), at about six o'clock.  Then, both of us

soon naked, we enjoyed the pleasures---male to

male---of complete and uninhibited intimacy.

Starwardist