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Red
Suburb|
Excerpt
All
the watered lawns turned red,
swimming
pools and miles
of blacktop and asphalt
roofs
red too.
The sky is red
not only
as the sun
comes
and goes
but
all day and all night, even
stars
are red.
And
you see things
like
the red scent of lilac
or a red breeze
moving a red swan over
the small red lake,
glittering arcs
of golf clubs on red fairways,
a
red wedding gown floating
out of church in a flood
of red organ hymns,
red
envelopes shoved
through the red slot
with
a clang, red piano
notes lurching uncertain
through
the air,
red
oak roots netting red cellars,
forsythia bursting red,
love
moaning
red out open windows, red
laughter,
red stains
on damask sheets,
a
red school bus grinding
round the cul-de-sac,
red
flies swarming
devil's food cake,
red
milk seeping
from the sleeping
baby's mouth,
a man shouting
above red radio blare,
red
sweat studding
a gardener's back, red noise
of
mowers starting
and stopping,
red silence,
the
peacock's
long
red call from the zoo,
a
red canopy unfurling
over a patio,
red shade,
three
boys lighting
a pipe in the musty red
restroom at the interstate,
a
band of girls waving red hands
from
a dark arcade in the mall,
a
couple knotted under red
willows
at the parking-lot's edge,
a
nurse arriving home
veiled in red
cigarette smoke,
sirens,
red crickets warring
in the grass, red tears
in a man's eyes
as he walks to his car,
red
tv
screens lighting picture
windows,
red whiskey
in
a wineglass, a couple slow
dancing
on a sea of red
linoleum,
a lone red shadow
behind that louvered window there.
I'm
Not Going to Be Your Bathhouse Jesus
1
so
don't assume too much when I give myself
to the dark room, when I put my body
in the hands of any man, not caring
for love or beauty, money or power.
Maybe you think I'm a goddamn hero
of the here and now or maybe just crazy
on crystal or just plain bored
with the not-so-few possibilities
of my cut body and choirboy smile on the street
or with my boyfriend between the sheets.
2
Thinking
he's alone at the urinal,
a family man takes his wedding band off
and tucks it in his cheek like it was chaw.
I could stun him with a kiss, put his ring on
the tip of my tongue and twirl it like a song.
3
When
the man with the expensive tan
acting nonchalant as a movie star
presses an amber vial of amyl
to his arched nostril and then to mine
I don't weigh his soul, I take him
deep, take every single drop
of vanity and mirror it back
simplfied as lust, maybe even desire.
4
Watching
the action happily
the old man beats off to the Bee Gees no longer
one iota ashamed he can't come
any closer, having learned to accept
the laws of attraction after years
of being shunned by those younger
though by no means more perfect than he.
I go to him, I grab him firmly.
He knew I'd come, he knows
every arrangement is ultimately elastic.
5
The
buffest muscle punk retreats
from the dark to the showers, crowd following,
fighting like starved pups at a swollen teat.
I put my fingers to his open mouth
and he swallows them one-by-one like they were fish.
6
A
boy beautiful as daylight leads me
through the labyrinth by a simple knot
at my waist, but won't kiss; I know
he only wants me on my knees for others
to watch until someone hotter comes
with good hands and a wicked mouth to match.
7
The
man with an angel tattooed over his heart
begs me to love him hard, so hard,
says he's never been with a man before,
says he likes me but wishes to hell
we'd met someplace else, for instance a bar.
Sure the carpet's stained and mildew flowers
over the tile, sure the smell of semen fermenting
permeates and the pop music piped in hurts the soul,
but he meant something else, so how could I
explain that this is no better or no worse
than any other place on this sweet earth?
8
The
sad man with the harelip and tortured body
holds me secure in his sinewy arms.
A scar in the shape of a dragon runs down his chest,
another, with wings, I trace the length of his back.
He smiles and the whole universe flip-flops
like a Möbius strip, and I put my mouth
to his mouth strong, and I love him most of all.
o Crimes of Lust o
As
the clubs close and I'm left
with nothing but a buzz of lust
I want you to know I'd commit crimes for you.
Though you're sleeping sober on the other side of town
by now I
want you to know I'd jaywalk this empty street for you,
I'd piss a snake up and down the sidewalk for you,
drive drunk around this parking lot,
scrawl graffiti outside city hall for you.
And if it would make the morning news
I'd take a tire-iron and smash the jeweler's empty window
for you. I'd wear handcuffs,
duck into a squad car,
look right into the tv cameras just for you.
Universes
under Ball Caps
They say just one flash of gamma rays billions of light-years
away gives off as much energy as the universe has had
forever,
which makes sense because for example when this hot
guy at the mall takes his cap off, his hair the color
of root beer falling over his pale face can launch a
thousand rockets flashing so fast time collapses
and I go backwards and forwards and live all my lusts
at once,
from when I hung around with Lucy's Australopithecus
son on the Serengeti to whatever alien liaison Mr. Spock
could dream up.
Like
Bruce Banner belted by gamma rays boom! I become the
Incredible Hulk, all buff and oozing testosterone, moving
through love like a cyclone,
until that guy at the mall flips those bangs back up,
tucks every lock away under the Yankees logo, and I
implode into my pedestrian form and mope on through
the mundane,
at last understanding not only quantum physics and relativity
but the mullahs when they deem the chador necessary
because sparks flying up from a woman's hair ignite
men like stars.
Also
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