by David Bolduc
David Bolduc is an order clerk at Stanford University. He did graduate work in anthropology at The New School for Social Research in New York and is now taking night classes in English lit. Bolduc's books include "Shards" and "Shared Affections" with Mark Hallman.
As an
aside, I'm also a chapbook publisher. If anyone has 24-40 page ms.s' they'd like
to have considered, they'd be welcome to snail mail me:
David Bolduc
Toth Press
935 Villa St., #3
Mountain View, CA 94041
"A Glimpse" -- "Johnny" -- "Autumn"
A Glimpse
I saw you
across the street.
For seconds, I thought it was you.
Face, form,
street-wise stance.
But you're a continent away
and three year's dead.
But those seconds, Angel,
those seconds.
Johnny
"Wanna
feel?" you asked by way of introduction,
casually executing
well-practiced pelvic grinds
from a 3 ft. distance. Close enough to be
admired
though tantalizing and crucially--not touched,
before
earnestly demanding, "Buy me a drink!"
in a smoke crowded West
48th street hustler bar.
"Like my shirt?" you grinned, pressing
close
enough to feel the rippling musculature beneath
the tightly
stretched cheap street-fair cotton
emblazoned with a photo of yourself
encircling
your Chinese girlfriend and son, 9 months.
An effective
inducement to a discerning clientele
concerned with virility of delivery:
short,
heavily muscled, early 20's, Bronx Puerto Rican.
The penult
question, "Wanna fool around?"
successfully joined to the
inevitable concluding,
"--How much?"
Autumn
References
scattered through the work--
casual as California poppies--record your
generosity:
flowers at the office, drugstore cologne,
the muy macho
buzzcut.
And now though sickness shows in your eyes,
yes, I will go.
I've never seen Portland, Seattle, Vancouver.
Or, Alaska--yet.
