I wrote the original draft of this poem while recovering from a nervous breakdown in the early 1980s. I (slightly) revised and published it on the blog in 2009 after rediscovering it among some old papers while clearing out my flat. I have since (slightly) revised it again and changed the title.
The poem continues to remind me how choosing to turning a blind eye and deaf ear to certain home truths can only end in tears (or worse); it also server as a timely reminder to me (at 68) that we should never let old age get the better of a positive take on life.
We can but trust our instincts when we go for the proverbial coffee with a compete stranger we fancy like mad; another good reason for staying at least relatively sober and alert...
Like many if not most gay men, I've had some great one-night stands with strangers that (more often then not) I've met in gay bars Only on rare occasions have my instincts let me down, but it only takes once to get into a tricky situation with someone who has more on his mind than sex.The only time my instincts have let me down is when I've had too much to drink. So...YES... have fun, but be (very) CAREFUL out there, and trust your (more sober) instincts ...
We can but trust our instincts when we go for the proverbial coffee with a compete stranger we fancy like mad; another good reason for staying at least relatively sober and alert...
Like many if not most gay men, I've had some great one-night stands with strangers that (more often then not) I've met in gay bars Only on rare occasions have my instincts let me down, but it only takes once to get into a tricky situation with someone who has more on his mind than sex.The only time my instincts have let me down is when I've had too much to drink. So...YES... have fun, but be (very) CAREFUL out there, and trust your (more sober) instincts ...
TALKING TO A STRANGER or ENGAGING WITH SELF-AWARENESS
He smiled at me. I looked away
(companion warning me he’s gay)
resisting an invitation in eyes
I couldn’t help but read, yearning
to respond (freely) with delight,
but family and friends all thought
I was straight so I tried to make out
everything was all right
He edged closer. I tried to follow
my companion’s sharp conversation,
nod and smile in the right places
while keeping an appreciative eye
on body contours running true
for someone working out regularly
and gets a kick out of blowing kisses
at people like me
My companion glared at him,
suggested we leave, find another bar
where private space less likely
to be compromised by a gay man
making a play for anyone
he fancies, but especially those
who choose to pretend it’s not okay
to respond in kind
He leaned across me at the bar,
an erotic cocktail of breath on my lips
inviting me to rub a tingling calf
oh, so, subtly against patched jeans
nor did I pull away the hand
he brushed with his, friend hastily
finishing his beer, insisting we both
get out of there
At last, I met his searching look,
let him read me through and through,
closed book though I had been
for years, product of a prejudice fed me
by the less enlightened among us,
preferring to gloss over home truths
with stereotypes, deny reality its head,
create fictions instead
He took his drink, moved away,
and (suggestively) turned his back
on me, but not before mouthing
an invitation blue eyes had passed on
from the start while (in vain)
I struggled to give my companion
due attention, resisting a mad tugging
on the heart
Suddenly, I did what I’d wanted
to do for years and threw all caution
to the wind, saw peace of mind
was a dream unless I seize the day,
accept there's no earthly shame
in being gay, refuse to hide away,
let family and friends see the whole
of who I am
My bemused companion left in anger;
I stayed on for the stranger...
Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2009; 2014
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