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greatpoetry2006-02-22 12:22 am
annani.livejournal.com) wrote in greatpoetry2006-02-22 12:22 am
Entry tags:
I'm Tired of the Seduction of Boys
I'm Tired of the Seduction of Boys
- J. Neil Garcia
I'm tired of the seduction of boys
touching crotches with brown careless hands,
the smiles thrown too easily,
the moist and lip-licking tongues.
On jeepneys they sidle up close,
tap your side with an errant finger, or footsy
under rheumaticky expressions of women
dogged by too much dust to care.
By the basketball courts
on streets forced into blindness by joy,
they sling creamywhite tank-tops
over shoulders, croon and preen like
fabled magnificent birds.
The gamy smell of armpits,
the shrill uncurling hairs.
Boys laid out to sweat
and be odorous in the sun:
of their tight and sour skins I'm cloyed beyond
redemption. I've tired of the concupiscent moments
of hearing the rush of blood
into my body's cavernous pockets:
of squeezing shut the dull, exclusive pain
of a throbbing, pig-headed erection.
I'm unmoved by boys
and their penises that fill my mouth
with a promise of red sunsets
bursting like bubblegum dreams, tasteful
as sweetmeats gone stale.
Perhaps it's time
to stop being much to swift to spot
in a crowd shuffling downcast and lonely.
Perhaps, it's my turn to do them a good turn,
to throw a smile and meekly touch the crotch,
flick out the dark assuming tongue,
and do the seducing
for a little, spare change.
- J. Neil Garcia
I'm tired of the seduction of boys
touching crotches with brown careless hands,
the smiles thrown too easily,
the moist and lip-licking tongues.
On jeepneys they sidle up close,
tap your side with an errant finger, or footsy
under rheumaticky expressions of women
dogged by too much dust to care.
By the basketball courts
on streets forced into blindness by joy,
they sling creamywhite tank-tops
over shoulders, croon and preen like
fabled magnificent birds.
The gamy smell of armpits,
the shrill uncurling hairs.
Boys laid out to sweat
and be odorous in the sun:
of their tight and sour skins I'm cloyed beyond
redemption. I've tired of the concupiscent moments
of hearing the rush of blood
into my body's cavernous pockets:
of squeezing shut the dull, exclusive pain
of a throbbing, pig-headed erection.
I'm unmoved by boys
and their penises that fill my mouth
with a promise of red sunsets
bursting like bubblegum dreams, tasteful
as sweetmeats gone stale.
Perhaps it's time
to stop being much to swift to spot
in a crowd shuffling downcast and lonely.
Perhaps, it's my turn to do them a good turn,
to throw a smile and meekly touch the crotch,
flick out the dark assuming tongue,
and do the seducing
for a little, spare change.
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yeah. . .
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I love JNG.
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