The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Poetry - 45. ...Comic Book Heroes II...

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Comic Book Heroes II

When I finished grade school

Dad congratulated me

but wouldn’t let me kiss him.

The time was past

for playing kissy-kissy,

he said.

And so it was that

for a long long time

I couldn’t draw near,

couldn’t kiss,

couldn’t feel the wiriness

of a full-grown beard.

+

It was a sin

to be queer

and I was always

ready to repent,

provided that handsome

young priest

would confess me.

+

Naked the two

of us alone

there in the back

of a shop

called “Garcia’s Auto Repairs,”

all cuddled up

and happy –

me

with my mechanic

(a friend of my father’s),

him

with [this] kid

from Benito Juarez

High School.

+

Just because

I thought you were cute

you had to shout

¡JOTO! at me.

+

And you,

although you made fun of me

in front of other people,

your eyes told me

how you dreamed

of my ass.

+

“It’s a shame, they say,

and they curse me even

for giving you my love”—

words from a song

I heard on the radio

while I was thinking of Luis

who is 29 and loves me.

+

I fell in love with him,

we were together a lot;

we fucked together.

It’s as simple as that.

+

When we were in high school

when you, so stuck on yourself,

told me one afternoon:

“I’ve got one this big.”

Then all those things

took place

because of which

we don’t see each other

anymore.

+

After a lot of talk about girls

he slapped me on the shoulder

and I don’t know how

but he let his hand slip down

to my pants,

those jeans

liked so much

because they were old

and faded,

and he pulled them down

and took hold of my cock.

Nothing said,

both of us silent,

looking each other in the eye

until

I don’t know what happened

I don’t even know

if I remembered

all the things they say

about queers,

I don’t know

but I let him have it

I really walloped him

and he slugged me,

I mean

we had it out.

Now that so much time

has passed

I wonder why,

why,

since I liked the feel

of the weight of his hand

and to tell the truth

I really liked Fernando.

—Ernesto Bañuelos Enríquez,[i]

1978