Ballad Of The Boy Next Door

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Many of the old adages that have fallen into everyday use are so corny. My goodness, but aren’t some of them just so true? I have in mind especially, ‘Fact is stranger than fiction’ & ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

Among life’s many ironies, love (whatever the gender, age, class, culture, creed, religion or sexuality of its active participants) has never needed too much persuasion to go centre-stage, and rightly so ... especially in a world that needs more love in it.

BALLAD OF THE BOY NEXT DOOR

I used to play at cowboys

with the boy next door;

We‘d walk to school together,

share the homework chore;

Later we went to discos

and danced all night…

got drunk, tried drugs, began

to drift apart

I missed him more than words

can ever say,

having grown to love him

in such a way…

a smile that beat a roll of drums

on my heart,

playful touches like matches

to my shirt

Eventually, I knew, I must

make a decision;

I packed us in a box - marked

Do Not Open…

along with cowboy hats

and school reports;

Mad, musical days long gone

as life goes on

We met up again in a bar

one day;

I had one too many, told him

I’m gay;

His eyes filled with tears,

and I sensed distain…

as my tongue ran away

with years of pain

Afterwards, I dashed out

in the rain…

spent hours, wishing we were

cowboys again;

He found me in a dingy

back street café,

his hair a mess, face lined

and grey

I didn’t want to hear what

he had to say…

but the look in his eyes

made me to stay;

Could it be, I wondered,

that he understood?

Then I knew for sure

he did

Fingertips touching, like

lovers kissing...

[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Note: Several readers have asked why the covers for my Love and Human Remains quartet - of which First Person Plural is volume two - are not in colour. Quite simply, I felt at the time that it was more appropriate as I tend to think of myself as a black-and-white poet.