—Joe Brainard
I just sat there,
all day, watching
another hair go gray.
“Can you push the
ancient,” says the man
who is perpetually
young. At the very
moment, I receive
an invitation
to witness “1000
BOYs in JOCKSTRAPs”
this Saturday. To
dance among
jockstraps gives
me a twinge
that is neither
overly mature
nor nostalgic.
“Why bother
with angels,” says
the youth of a man
who claims to have
clung to my life
for years,
trapped in a
soulless heart—
or a heartless
soul—that was
once and always
my very own.
