Poems Meant as Secrets #3
Arthur, 1963 or thereabouts
Arthur,
dear dead flamboyant Arthur
who did not live long enough to slowly die of Aids
Arthur,
dead dead flamboyant Arthur
knew enough not to say
that the only people who truly appreciated young boys
were old ragged
Queens like him
and that nobody
appreciated the old Queens
especially not the young Queens,
most of whom would not stay the cold rugged course
would only have the memory of Maxine’s
and the drunken Piano players within
and keep this part of their life secret
from the women they would marry
over all the hairy years
Arthur
whose face looked like a ridge
was well past the age of unpaid love
and could not bring himself to pay
so he was with George and other friends
where young boys would congregate
and some would join him
in a dark corner of the cellar
in the waiting of the bathroom
Arthur was retired
and did not need to work
though all of this
sometimes felt like it
Arthur
loved Maxine’s
where he could buy drinks for youngers
and pretend
it might lead to something
One of us should
of spent a night with him
not for the pleasure of it
but because it would give him pleasure
and isn’t that what love is
doing something homely
for reasons of beauty
Arthur
would not of liked the term Pederast
after all,
he would have reasoned,
he never asked for an age card,
and he never used force
nor seduction
he was just there
available
unlike the young women of the proper age
he might even define it as a service
and most of us would have agreed then
and some now
and some now
And any harm that was done
if such there be
was far less than the daily knives
we got at our homes
where there were monsters
who truly loved us
and knew how to kill and revive
kill and revive
on a daily basis
9-1-02