He had the most striking mop: He had the most striking mop of curls. And there was a spring to his gait when he was without shoes that was, to me, very attractive. I don't think he ever realized, during those four years, just how beautiful he was. One Saturday night, in September, 1978, we shared a delivered pizza together. I was not quite sure if I wanted to taste the pizza or his grass-stained toes. We spent a good many hours together, but I was too afraid, to disclose how much I desired him, because of the systemic homophobia on campus. But nobody---and I mean nobody---ever looked as good barefoot in a pair of distressed, bell-bottom jeans.
This is a beautiful poem, and: This is a beautiful poem, and reminds my pastor during my teen years. I am so very grateful for the mention, and the use of my screen name, and the "pull back to plain reality" that this poem so artistically presents.
>> View All Comment Activity >>