Manly Men

There, he looked again,
right at me.
At my crotch, for God’s sake.
He’s at the table across from the bar
near the bathrooms.

Maybe he thinks I’m
“that way.”
Maybe the little queer
thinks he’ll score.
Who can blame him? I’m a stud.
I work out twice a week.

But God, he must
think I’m some kind of
perv.

Here he comes,
right over to the bar,
brazen little nancy boy.
I could buy him a few
drinks, get him out back
and beat the shi-

“Mister?” the young man says
softly.
“Your fly is open.”
He walks to the door,
greets some guy
They hug and grab a drink.

Maybe I should work out more.

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Kerry at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads requested we write poems from the first person point of view using a narrator whose unreliability becomes clear to the reader through the course of the narrative. Also, ABC Wednesday is up to M, and, as always, it’s up at my favorite LGBTQ-friendly cafe, Poets United.

Remember, never judge the book without reading it first. Or something like that. I’m so sick of homophobes, and this is an example of well-deserved ego deflation (and shrinkage!). Peace, Amy


Posted by in LGBTQ, POETRY Tags: , , , , , , ,