In the relentless heat
of a Chicago summer.
Two men,
standing,
face
to face.
The shock
of realisation tingling,
electric,
between
them.
Each waiting,
hoping the other
will speak
the words.
Fearing,
wanting,
knowing
the
inescapable truth.
The
tide of passion
has brought them here
and now,
stranded,
they hesitate.
Each of them more naked than he has ever been.
There
are no maps
or compasses to guide them
through these uncharted
realms.
No promises of a safe journey.
But then a touch,
feather-light,
an act of faith.
And together
they explore
the undiscovered
country.
Afterward,
lying in the narrow bed,
limbs entangled,
the
breeze like warm silk
on sweat slick skin,
the words,
set
free at last,
a whispered caress.
Lying in his lovers arms,
he
discovers joy.
In the grey morning
light,
pacing,
softly,
not to disturb his lover's sleep.
In
borrowed clothes,
pacing,
shivering in the warm breeze.
From
the bed,
a deep stillness.
What will he feel,
now that passion
is spent?
Regret,
shame,
disgust?
And then a stirring
in
the narrow bed
sends him to perch,
birdlike,
seeking crumbs
of hope.
Eyelids flutter,
open.
Transfixed by brilliant blue
and
a joyous smile,
he tumbles into reaching arms.