hmmm...a bunch of frat boy style
jocks and too pretty, too plastic
girlfriends..living it up, partying hard
...the guys are cute, but they'll kill me, most definitely...and those kind of girls hate guys like me...
don't belong there.
bunch of all black wearing, black lipstick, downward staring, upward glaring pseudo-freaks listening to the over-glorified, "the cure". A band worshiped by all their "ultra-cool and we're so different, we're too cool for you" kind, so therefore i kind of despised that band by association, while loving a handful of their songs, "let's go to bed" and "a forest" my all time favorites, but their crowd of followers, fanatics
i definitely don't belong here, there or anywhere with them
walk straight ahead,
really wish i was dead...
"my people!"....all here..
it's a sunday sun soaked afternoon beer bust, barbeque at the local gay bar..
bunch of guys, age range 21 to already dead (over 40) huddled in groups, little packs based on clique, clothing and lack thereof...i get a soda (not much of a drinker) and sit down in the corner.
between all the "i hate women", "yeah, fuck them!" or "i just wanna do their hair" talk...and all the sleazy, cheesy cock talk, come-on's", make-fun-of smirks, glances and not one beautiful, brooding bad boy with a secretly sensitive heart in sight...i realize...
i don't belong here either...
so i leave.
head down, heart sunk.
my problem, not theirs...
i don't belong anywhere.
head back home.
turns out I'm not alone...
the most feared of all groups gathered
psychotic father, tragic mother
sociopathic brother, hate seeping
older sisters, over embellishing, manipulative sister in age, just above me, and last but not least my doused in the devil grandmother with her dumber than shit cohort, husband, my grandfather....
and little old (aged out by twelve, in all ways imagined, trust me) faggot, sissy boy me...
i can't breathe.
suddenly, amongst them
i cease to exist, to feel at all like me...
between wanting to save my mother, being disgusted by the sight of my father, vacillating between loving and hating my sisters and hating myself more for always wanting their love and approval, despising my brother and his twisted glances, pure evil...and warding off my grandmother's ever judgemental, seething looks and stares...
i have to get the fuck out of here.
the origin of the place, "don't belong
anywhere", made brutally, soul scarringly aware...
and so i run, walk, crawl, fly
(at least in my forever in need of escape mind)....
it's now dark outside,
warm air, cool breeze, feels delicately
the street lights glow,
and then i see him.
standing against a seemingly
towering tree, smoking a cigarette,
having a rainier beer.
he is tall, about 6'2
the most beautiful, natural dark brown
hair that looks almost silk black
naturally pale perfectly imperfect skin
strong, wide, almost hairless hands
dark, kind eyes.
the kind that hide a lot of soul,
secrets, sensitivity inside.
lips, full, perfectly so, the kind a guy like him could never appreciate how lucky he was to have them...
understated, but somehow on him,
jeans, white plaid shirt.
north face sweatshirt.
a regular looking, as in dressing, guy,
not the slightest bit regular,
the kind with rough, fragile, stars
glimmering, but not boasting, in his eyes...
his face, the most fascinating i realized i never knew i hadn't, but had just now, seen....
different from every angle, like a prism of light and dark mixed together,
like i finally knew the real presence of handsome, heart, mystery, magnitude.
it, embodied in him...
his body, natural, but honorable,
thin, but not, strong, but soft.
he started talking to me.
inherently soulful "somehow...something, an uncommon feeling"
and then i realized.
i felt it all around me,
as the moments turned to hours,
turned to days, weeks, months
time flying, like the universe, present,
soaked in my skin, my eyes, my heart,
the air, the sun, the rain, morning light, evening dawn, then stars out darkness..
it was him.
soaked in sweetness,
soaked in soul, soaked in sensual
soaked in secrets, soaked in sensitivity
soaked in strength.
soaked in him.
i soaked him in.
i felt at home.
i felt safe.
i felt i belonged
nothing, no one, else
had i ever truly felt that before.
and didn't think for a moment,
no matter all the left turns, right turns,
wrong turns, turn-aways, turn backs,
turn-arounds, turn forwards
and i did.
his name is Derick.
bowen hart roselli
16 september 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.