The homeless kid in front of the pub
Had two rotting front teeth
And worn down trainers- converse all-stars.
There was an Aussie couple at the bar,
In their forties, drinking white wine.
We talked about vegemite, but I still don’t get it.
This city is lonely tonight—
The air so cold it’s sharp
In warm, wet nostrils.
This city is hopeless tonight—
And I’ll curl up and listen
To Mahler No. 5,
And fall asleep and dream
Dark dreams again.
I had nylon-covered bent knees.
A ghost of a smile, like the breath that curled out
Our lips.
This is a poem for the little boy-man
With the nose just slightly too big for his
Face
And the warmest eyes I’ve seen in
A few weeks, at least.
I am full of some kind
Of movement
Like the wake of a boat
On the Thames.
I had nylon-covered bent knees.
And I let my hair cover my face,
And pointed my black-boot feet inward.
And was eight feet tall, walking in Chelsea or Battersea
Giving out neon flashes with my moon-eyes.
And I only had one gin and tonic.
I kissed him
On the mouth.
He was a brown-haired Mexican man
With a great wide stomach and eyes the color of
A fine cigar. And great flat hands like plains of land, with
Square fingertips that spoke measures on mine.
It was cold, but he
Never dared put an arm
Around my rigid frame.
And his head
Was damp with sweat.
He was sweet in his
Own way-
So bursting with the most
Obvious feelings.
So softly feeling subtext
Slip through his fingers
(beans in grains of rice)
And I kissed his small mouth-
Surprisingly small
For a man his size-
And I knew he wanted to
Take me to bed,
But I didn’t.
Tonight
Which is
Rapidly becoming
This morning
(another sleepless night)
I would give
My favorite pair of shoes-
The red pumps with the brass buttons-
To be next to you
Four drinks in
Fingers interlaced
Saying nothing
And knowing that I don’t have to say anything at all.
Feeling just the bit of sweat
Coming off your arm
Catching in the hairs.
Staring at the fucking white ceiling.
