Saturday, January 24, 2009


I sit here waiting for a friend to appear,
whom I've never met, never known, never seen.
I sit down and guard our meeting place
the convenient but cliched cigarette machine.
I calmly wait an hour, when my drink is gone, I leave.
Slipping out a quietly as an escaping thief,
that says good-bye to no one as he leaves the brigantine.

But I'm ceased by unseen forces, the mystical magician,
pulling, yanking a my cortex - insecurities arise.
What if my hero shows and his princess is away?
If he doesn't find his damsel will he try to claim his prize?
So, I search the palace once more and find he hasn't shown,
then return to my guard chair and sit there all alone.
To hell with all this waiting, I start to socialize.

I wonder who to start with, the one right there looks fine.
I ask him what the time is (do I really want to know?)
He looks around and tells me, then returns to his friend.
the conversations ended, that's the way most bar-talks go!
So I sit alone again with an appetite to quench,
debating using qualities assigned a lusting wench,
but decide to use my much-used, favourite line "Hello".

But I find that my friendly straightforward advance,
can be changed, rearranged into contrary context.
I'd have to explain so as not be mistaken,
that I offer a friendship, not a nights lurid sex.
But I have to admit the fine thought crossed my mind,
that the game I am playing is of the same kind,
as anyone else who inhabits this annex.

So, I try it once again and find that I'm ignored.
And again, through disappointments, I feel compelled to try
to carry out, carry through, and succeed with my mission
to seek out and find that cocooned butterfly.
So I can seep in and share life with another,
Life would be happy with the love of a brother,
with intellect-sexual needs to satisfy.

And in amid these phoney-covered queers, I'll find that love.
Not a self-centered-don't-bother-me incoherence,
but a true feeling undaunted by the touch,
that cleverly caters to the usual suspense
of a fateful stranger-crowded drunken night.
And, I, the wandering innocent filled with fright,
wonder when the blessed event will commence.

© 1996 Mach B

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