Give me a Clue

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

Here’s a very early (autobiographical) poem that I discovered a few years ago while clearing out my flat; I have slightly revised rather than rewrite. I was 17 years-old when I wrote the original version at a time when gay relationships were still a criminal offence here in the UK. In those days (as now) poetry was my lifeline, giving rein to pent-up feelings I could share with no one except others like me struggling to make sense of our sexuality. Some of us stayed the course; others, like Joey, caved into Mother Convention and the expectations of unsuspecting parents.

Joey is not his real name, but it is his birthday today.  He married a good 40 years ago and now has great-grandchildren. In the unlikely event he ever reads this post, he may remember me if I say he shared his name with the family cat (black, but for the tips of its ears that were white).

Oh, yes, I remember it well…

(Photo from the Internet)

GIVE ME A CLUE

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about

in books, seen on TV

and movies in the middle row

at popcorn cinemas

Maggie is a lovely girl,

who lived just across the way

and asked me out,

but somehow I couldn’t see it, her
and me on a date 

Love was just a word,

kept drilling holes in my head,

burning my ears,

turning my skin red for tongues

ever wagging at me

Harry is a real nice guy

whom I’d known for years, 

(though not really well)
invariably making the queerest

impression on me 

Love was a just a word

making itself felt all the more

for wondering about Joey

and what he was doing, wishing

we could get together

I really didn’t have a clue

what life was meant to be about

(for me, at any rate)

till Joey sat next to me on a bus,

let his smile say it all

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about,

seen on TV, in cinemas...

till we shared a kiss, Harry and me,

and it (finally) got real

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2012