Rock, Keith, As the sun is stroked So far into the lap of the night, Suffocating and as good as gone. The folding and unfolding Of a crinkled letter into squares; The imagining of the counselor Of cabin four And what a pulse would have created If her head had drowsed To my hand on the back of her seat On our way here; The general silent howling of "Come!"-- Keith does not cripple to this. He has no sister that calls a stranger back To erase and draw back Them both. He does not say "come!" All hours. He comes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - A Gentleman's Right He must have thought That there was some covenant of the old That bound each to move around it In a square orbit. he was fifty now, so there Must not have been any question: Lessen the speed at the train tracks; Stumble his car over their ribs; Swerve closely to the drive At a slower pace, and hope That where men dodge the bumping Of their tails from Parks For a private club, That one would come Out from the doors, partnerless. If not, he would have To go around the block Another time Like other old fags before-- The railway crippling with Its iron in each return raising, Cracking up from the skin of the street; Limbs of that bar's tree Waving down (some To the windshield), warning. Thoughts that the energy of youth Had some pivotal focus Made each imagined man to him Like a lollipop, but the parks would not do: There the man with the smashed fender Might be obligated to 69 A winner without a face-- a drag race ending in the winner's backseat, And on his tools which would rib in. And inside that bar where women snuggle Away their faces in equality, And where men rotate hips on the dance floor Like an earth's axes...this would not do: For there were no friends to affect Mutually and faggishly in embraces; And the young and sensitive Were Oriental and fonder Of the cigarettes They put in their faces And the beers that suddenly appeared Before them. This would not do: Mouth-hugging the earth On its bulge of life Or moving to songs Where the dances never end. He was an old fag and must retain A square orbit. It, at least, Was a gentleman's right And in accordance with the Manner of the fags. The block was long. In the shadows and oblique actualities He felt its length. His stomach tightened In fear of the length. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - Transitional Mendacities