Sunrise Pond

I. Solitude:

My unnatural pond
in my man-made commune
reflects and refracts
the morning sun
as it brightens the new day.

Viewing south-west,
the dawn above
my left shoulder,
its silent motion
seals my solitude.

II. Solitude +1:

An unnamed water fowl
unfolds wings
to greet this star,
as if to pay homage
to some avian god.

Alone,
but not lonely
I raise my arms
to ape an
unknown water fowl.


TP/MMXV.

Cruisin'

In my 1967 powder blue
Pontiac Le Mans,
I drive Central Park West,
top down,
on hot humid New York nights,
the “strip” dubbed “Vaseline Alley”
by the Queen of West 72nd street,
whose knights hold sway nightly
under dim street lights,
on benches and in bushes,
awaiting this errant prince
to sweep them away
in his V8 steed.

This car, this cock-magnet, this twink;
Entices those lonely, lovely, homosexuals
to join and joust with me somewhere,
so secret desires are explored and exploded
in anonymous and experimental
MSM lust.

As pistons propel the Pontiac,
in my driver’s seat,
I am safe and OUT
and free from questions
of what propels my pursuit
for masculine companionship
of the most intimate.

Eye contact @23 MPH
dissolves all discussion
in my head,
of these queer desires,
my physical being sparked
as my quest for this
holy encounter
is fulfilled.

TP/MMXV