I REMEMBER
by
Charles Dobie
First published in The Church-Wellesley Review, spring 1991 or 1992.
I remember sounds and tastes and touches in hot
summer nights of hunger for that heat found only in
each nameless other for a time imagined that we owned
the world and nothing could contain us but our passion
stank of liberation kindled light within our gathered
faces glowed as if we knew how soon we would be ghosts.
I remember Queen and Sherbourne Street in 1972 or
was it 3 o'clock in hot July I watched you hosing down
the sidewalk with an afternoon of beer was purchased
with a knowing wink at office workers peered from
streetcar window barricades of quickly folded papers
gave them reassuring comfort with descriptions of my
feelings as I tore my eyes from streaming cock to drink
your smile meant only for your gentle lover walking
with us quelled my jealous longing with a simple touch
fortold my future on those steaming squares ablaze like
neon every time I pass them peering at the punkers from
behind my quickly folded paper mocks me with
descriptions of that smile I drank so long ago I knew I
could not watch you end your days attended by your
latest lover who long distance static could not hide
your laughter as each laboured breath proclaimed his
name tuberculosis.
I remember laughing lust with shadow strangers in
a room compressed with sound and smoke and laser
incandescent sweat hid tears that ran like rivers were
his home for years he waited for someone to swim along
the current of his heart fought to escape across the
jungle twilight water black with blood-blind soldiers
lined the shore to shoot his children were all dead he
said he could not speak their names engraved the waves
with bullet-shattered light entwined our shadows for a
moment's passion much too quickly spent the time
remaining drowning in his eyes suprised to see my
tears.
In Memory of Ken Hutchinson