At a Gay Night Club


When my friend Niro
Asked me to accompany him to a Gay Night Club
In Australia, I declined. That was one step too far
For me. I was petrified of a forcible sexual encounter
Or even a gin-soaked man fondling my testicles
Or I walking in on two men consensually
Making the wall, a vertical divan.

Then I still think, would I have had an epiphany
Or a paradigm shift. Of how great the journey
That a two-compartment train,
In reverse, can take, whistling from the coal burner.
With Pet Shop Boys singing a song
About a place where a young man gets lost
To the electronic beat and the beauty of ethereality
Of his one ephemeral – A stand of his flesh.

And what if I got lost to my heart
As I saw fruits bats for their true beauty
How they bit into the fruit, swaying with ease,
With finesse, and how they made the music carry their wings
And it was amazing how blind to their surroundings they were
Just like a man dancing with a woman

And dozens of lips, I imagined, would have been so drunk
Clutching another. Freedom was the right
To make mouth fit to mouth, lips mirroring lips
Assembling the foul smell of Gin
And the odd freshness of mint.

And I wonder about Niroshan, a romantic
Gay guy, what his fate would be. Knowing
His conscience’s final frontier would be his body’s first.
How one man will find his skin, deep in another.
And how skins define who we are.
And who we are not.

And his skin will be gay, the happy man,
Who I believe would never buy a happy meal
To a Pet Shop Boys song, and wait,
To complete what lies beneath his curry skin,
– The chambers of his spice bowl heart –
With the ache of a happy spice.

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