Call Boy- Version 2

Call Boy- Version Two
Raymond Weaver


over & under
balding bulk la-
boring into port

like a rudderless
scow, he chews visions

of Ganymede’s spread-

eager- eagled be-

neath greened-god hulks’

or Puerto Rican movie
cops dipping and ri-
sing in motor
cycle roaring
bolero rhythms
into sweet caves
where Jupiter shows
his god-head & his glory,

or collegiate boy next door,
tousled & trembling & brown
virgin smelling of baseball
sweat and pop-corn, sliding
enthusiastically home.

or counts money not yet
safe in his designer jeans.
or counts water-spots on the wall
in metronomic time

the hour is an eternity.



About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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