smiles in the bus when seen heads up
down tilt turn left right
but mostly centered except the sleepers
you one of them on my shoulder
a relaxed neck with a pulse, simply thumping thumping
and I am aware of my bony shoulders excavating your cheekbone
now you are with eyes swaying that I am a boy
I am aware your father left Lebanon and so were you really
you whoo slept with a local man knew the power of a whisper
tonguing even (especially) the baby hairs of nude sculptures
softening and as delightful ice-cream
on thursdays he taught us to say ‘paula’ and when
he broke into us we giggled but not you
just like the beach with camcorders screaming
but breathing ‘titties’ American exhibit at la playa de sardinero
but not me
shaking anchors subtle nuances breaking far off we walked
to a secluded beach down stones I thought you were a gypsy
a real gypsy shirtless and spinning I saw thoughts of you together
when we swam outward stroking
and on the streets in Madrid when I said art was dead
you turned suddenly and that was it
thumbing my big toe in the sand imp and afraid
by Robert Jameson
