vineri, 2 septembrie 2011

The invisible man


He must have looked for a father figure, he thought. After all, this is what they say about gay men. What they say... But in the back-room of a gay bar it is easy to forget about this sort of things. This is one of the reasons he came here: to forget. Then there was the sex. And, why not, the father figure complex.

Back home, when he was just a boy, he used to spend long hours trying to figure out how to crop up a conversation with his father. In spite of his efforts, their dialogue didn't amount to much other than "good morning" and "good night". This happened days on and he used to feel guilty about it. The boy knew that being invisible was not a great gift. There was the story about the crazy scientist; that didn't end up nicely for the invisible man either.

Here in the dark-room one could feel as if he were invisible. Bodies pressed against you, yet you are not being looked at. They just feel, they fondle, they nuzzle and sometimes they grab.

A gathering of men
Out of the loop of the world,
All blinded,
Searching for a prey
To get them out of the dark.

The leather man enters,
He gasps.
The sound of his voice hits
The wall in front of his mouth.
He is being bent over.

He smiles,
An invisible smile,
One for himself.

Hands on the wall, arrested.
A clean face gasps
A dirty smile,
The perfect flower?
Off goes the mask.

No, it was not to forget
There was never the father figure.

It was the sex,
Always the sex,
The sex of a stranger.



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