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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Poetry - 96. ...the boy smiled at me...

.

At the Roadside Stand

 

when the boy smiled at me so freshly

the sea parted and a path opened at my feet

I could barely hear his grandfather talking

about garden vegetables

and kept looking at the bristles on the boy’s neck

and at his body and at his hands

they were pale as wax he wore a cheap blue ring

and later when the grandfather got mixed up in his change

the boy counted it piece by piece

scooping it up and lightly brushing my palm

with his fingers

then carried my bag to the car.

his parting smile was ingenuous:

‘behind what seems my eagerness, I’m there,’

it said, ‘waiting.’

 

and what did I do about that!

I shied as I always do (in haste)

and I groaned as I got in the car for the fool that I was

and I thought of the girl in a few years

who would be under those hands

naturally, his life cutting its groove

and as I drove away I thought of all the time

between going to waste

imagining the boy and I filling it up in hot embrace

not even watching where I was but like a drunk driving.

—John Gill,

1967

 

 

 

 

 

 

as noted
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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15 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

How this poem describes moments etched in our memories! Such a moment of intense connection can leave one stunned, and indeed, drunk, as the poet observes. I can recall how a chance conversation about geometry with a new colleague left me breathless one evening. Thank you for this poem which describes experience so well. 

When I first read this poem, Parker, I knew you'd appreciate it. I think John Gill has encapsulated an experience most (if not all) same-sex loving people have felt from time to time. I posted this one for you :)   

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