2004-09-08

once again

in the early days of my post-first-boyfriend, pre-post-college, exploratoration of the pervy landscape, I sorta dated this creepy guy who like to have nails driven (with a hammer) through his scar-tissue-ridden nipples (that would dwarf anything found on the end of a no. 2 pencil). there's so much more that could be written about my time with him (freak show!), but for the purpose of this, a short intro must suffice.

he's maintained contact with me (and by contact, I mean sending me emails to which I never reply). I get annual updates on his struggles with the elevator repair union, first in Philly, now somewhere in Florida, and his love for the sea. I don't regret hopping on the back of that Gullwing motorcycle, but we weren't a good match. part of his freakish-ness (that I now admire) was his desire to be a writer. he would share his work with me, and my lil' 23 year-old self (although he looked up to me intellectually, since I had the big fat education) smiled politely as I read terrible poetry.

to this day, I receive poems in my AOL inbox. poems without any comment, intro or words addressing me. sometimes a few a month, sometimes long stretches of silence. granted, I am not a trained creative writer, but I did work with a fabulous poet during my stint in LA. And by fabulous, I mean published in the National Poetry Review and crap like that. and, I can read.

JB's work occasionally glimmers, but more often, it makes me laugh. I probably could have collected all the emails in case he becomes some great queer writer (exploring such cutting-edge territory as his relationship to his father, Sm, and the beauty of nature, make that, Florida's nature).

for your reading enjoyment (and snickers), I offer you this. (other than removing his name, this is how I received it, line breaks, punctuation and all):

ONCE AGAIN by JB c 2001

Refrigerator boxes with spaceship dashboards drawn inside

We would fly to the planets

Through crimson spangled space

We would look out the windows too

And we would marvel at what we saw

And what adventures we would have

Oh god take me back there now

Just let me crawl inside for a moment

And lay my weary head on that cardboard metal floor

And sleep my childish dreams once again

Once again

earlier - later