her skirt that was barely there this morning
i wore a blue striped white pants and shirt
the shirt
cut in such a way it hung
open
loose
on the bias
something beautiful made by him
(this, here: how i say it)
now it’s mine.
we’re together
it’s a collaboration
he has ideas
his hands make into
clothes
i put my body in the clothes
give them life
my art is my life
he dresses me
it’s a collaboration.
we’re together here
together now
are we partners
friends
they ask
i talk in circles
side stepping direct attacks
queries
i never want to give simple answers people can put in a box
square holes
i always give dodecahedron answers
think about it, bitch
don’t make it fit
change your story
i woke this morning at 8am
8 something
pissed, thought to return to bed
but it wasn’t light that
the morning was cool and beautiful
i had to go out and join it
so i threw some clothes on
the yellow suit
afraid of the cold
i put on the african scarf
and the blue bag
i ran down the stairs and onto the street
alive with open eyes
skin taught and sparkling
i started walking
out the door
following that direction
(west)
i thought to grab my phone
i wanted nothing
but thought the map may be useful to get lost/ get back
i thought of cameras
but wanted to carry nothing
so nice, the phone
barely there that morning
but within a few blocks i had it out
snapping sketches of the morning
but there was a homeless man on an empty street around the next corner
i’d already put it back in my pocket
and took a right
then a left
and continued
leading me through and around
(the hot water moves fast, dispersing the herbs… )
i glanced at the map occasionally
where am i?
down the street of fish
the street of kings
to the Plaza de España
how did these appear?
some ideal of the dictator?
some imaginary union of people who had fought so hard not to be of the same family?
it was cold now
i was cold
i sat in a ray of sun
after watching a sexy little bear
natural bear
little belly
bald head, thick beard, greying chin
i sat in the sun
the sprinklers sprayed
i warmed up
and continued on
past the dog walkers
up the mountain
jumping up the side
to the top
near the old Egyptian temple (Amun & Isis)
gifted in 1968 (thank you, Spain)
watching is beautiful exorbitant ancientness reflect in the pool
and the large forest underneath…
flowing out into the horizon
where did Madrid end?
i thought we were in the desert?
i have been so thirsty while i’ve been here…
my lips are chapped…
the dog walkers
the cold morning fading
it’s day now
and my imagination of SPAIN with its early mornings and late nights
faded as well
perhaps in the month of August
when people were out at the shore
and just sleeping late
a whole city
taking it easy
or all fucking hippies
or kids out partying
knowing that there are brighter sides to life
than work in the morning
i walked past them
they squinted their eyes at me
was it the monday morning light?
or the blue against the purple/yellow/red against the yellow?
too much. too confusing. some fancy party clothes
on a monday morning
i walked past them
and glanced at the map
finding streets that would get me there
nearer
past old vintners
the rolling hills…
years ago covered with cobble
covered with brick
some ancient hall
Conde Ducque
this or that
i made my way home
eventually finding a bakery that was open
(the rest were on holiday)
and got some flakey empanadas, chocolate croissants, pan de queso, ham and cheese
and a coffee with milk for him
i walked home
and up the stairs
just in time!
he said he had thought i had gone to sleep in the loft
and he had got up
read the magazine
read his book
sat on the terrace
thought he’d wake me with a kiss
but didn’t find me in the loft
didn’t find me in the other
called out to me
and sat for a moment thinking
“what do i do if he doesn’t come back?
“what do i do if he’s found some man who’s rich and takes him far away?
“what do i…”
but i came back
i do.
i told him i gave up those fantasies long ago
Boys:
are there any boys out there?
do you have dreams of Uncle Mame?
i used to dream of Oliver’s real grandfather
not just rescuing me from the orphanage, from the street gang
not just taking me into middle class luxurious splendor
not just teaching me the real ways of the world
elegance and posture
but holding my young body against his wizened flesh
oh, yet still plump with power and fecundity
pressing himself into me with love and duty
imbuing his wisdom and wiles into me
no
no
no
i dreamed of it so often
feeling, even, his hand holding mine
taking me away from the fools who i was forced to live with
be it raising me as an aristocrat
all the way to a wizard
a prince
i had all of them
i dreamed them to my follies
falling for idiotic fundamentalist nutters
and tasteless midwestern empiricists
none of them had the wealth or knowledge i sought
not even the love
just foolish desires to please and be pleased
love:
what do i want now
Love: who i am speaking to
somewhere i know you hear me
maybe not in your mind, you, sir
not just in you, who are reading this
but somewhere in the spider web behind your eyes
where your blinking acknowledgment connects with that of
him
reading this when he does
as he hears it and sees it
through tears
laughter
or forgetting
through clouds of confusion
strokes of lust
somewhere it all connects to my love
my teacher
my father
my friend
who truly knows me
myself
who hungers to reach me
to teach me
to take me and love me
mother, father
family
this is a blessing
i’ve known forever my lover is beyond one simple hand
i took him to the HOT BAR tonight
we got a drink (2:1)
and went downstairs
he was enthralled by my skills
i shine more in giving it away to all
than just to one
(so i imagine)
he loved it
and i felt my old duty kindled
a daddy
a chub
HA!
a chub that completes a story
sorry sir, i’ve already forgotten your strange name
your beautiful boyish face, like all of my subjects
king of the dominicans as i am
the first dominican i ever had
right there in the Hot Bar Basement
he’s fatter now than he used to be
but i found him just as hot
i loved rubbing him and pleasing him and bringing him to climax
and saw him upstairs
his beautiful boy face
i asked him
“yes”
he said
i met him five years ago
he didn’t remember me
i forgot to tell him of my change of appearance
but there we are
hand connecting
past self to now
it’s been so long
and look: i’ve survived
i’m alive
through all of my weakness and struggling
in sickness and health
i’m still here
so is he
and we met the kids then
one
then the other
his head against a pole
in Chueca Square
we walked through these winding streets
to find the mural they have been painting
unlike any others i have seen
(buy their book here!)
we went up through the hills
to the plaza de la espiritos santos
where i had been this morning
again again
to have a drink
talking about the fall of europe
through potatoes and rum
new world poisons
not yet as safe as from syphilis
onward
back to disperse gifts (again again)
we left them at our door
and went the other way
back to the hot bar
where i talked to a beautiful man from pittsburg
but he didn’t want to play out in the open where all could see downstairs
and
being in europe
i had no time for his american puritanism
fuck that shit
DO IT IN FRONT OF PEOPLE
and i did
again and again and again
firing up My Friend
and loving every one
Old Men
if i could be forever surrounded by their yeasty crotches
scruff old scrotums
round bellies
their smiles
serving as i love to
giving them pleasures
feeling my consciousness blossom into them
and they into me
the orgasm blessing their hearts and bodies
and rippling through the planet
every day and always
if i could harness the energy instantly
to keep my legs from getting tired
to keep my lips from being rubbed raw
alas
i’m only human
love as i might
toiling on
into the night
it’s all well and good
i have done my duty
i booked us rooms
i struggled with the laws of the iPhone
i pleased some daddies and bears
i enjoyed the kids
and felt like a Man
all grown up!
growing up
this city of night
(jim morrison and i’m sure mr rechy too)
back to sit at the table drinking tea
and aching to sing him the entirety of Jane Says
only telling him the part about how i made it to Spain
I Did
then and now
and it feels wonderful
so fucking Civilized
this is Living
and don’t you forget it/ will you ever know?
not tonight we won’t
Koos has got up from where he was sleeping on the terrace
he’s hopefully curled up warm in bed
where i shall soon find him
and when will i ever get this back on line to be able to send it somewhere?
to myself?
and all of you, my dearest
cariñoso
.
:.:
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