IGW asked Brian Bengtson to submit one of his
poems. You might recall the
review we did of his recently published collection of poetryActor, playwright, and
poet, BRIAN. E. BENGTSON is a native of Omaha, Nebraska and has been
featured in many national Gay/Lesbian magazines, and HIV/AIDS journals
such as HURAKAN, DAVID'S PLACE, BAY WINDOWS, and POETRY MOTEL.
His first one-act play, FAGS IN THE MALL, was originally produced
by the Crawlspace Theatre in New Orleans in 1991. He served four and a
half years as Poetry Editor for THE NEW VOICE OF NEBRASKA (the state's
oldest and longest-running G/L/B/T magzines until it folded in 1998).
HIs first chapbook, entitled GAY. . .SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED was
published by Lone Willow Press in 1995. He now has a new book of
poetry, entitled FIRST CHILL (published through PublishAmerica).
Visit his website for
samples of his work. http://www.brianbengtson.com/
I am the hustler who made you stop
and look on Burgundy street.
I am the tired old drag queen
who spills her drink,
then mouths all the words to the video.
I am the little piece of fluff
who has one shot too many,
and I am the troll
who holds his ass for support.
I am the ethyl-sniffing disco diva
out on the dance floor
with a new bleach job.
I am the part-timer who prays to God
that no one sees me go in.
I am the bar-floor drug dealer
who puts his fingers all over the acid.
I am the happy-hour holdover
trying to explain to the cab driver
where the hell I live.
I am that trick you woke up with,
and have a quick second thought about,
as you look in the mirror.
I am the rough piece of trade
who pinched your nipples too hard.
I am the pretty boy
with the perfect tan
who makes all the bartenders
hoot and holler.
I am the sorry thing
who you all make comments about
behind my back.
I am the drunk geek
who hits on anything with three legs.
I am the daddy
you saw across the bar,
and didn't have the nerve.
I am the trick-come-lately
dancing on the speakers,
sucking on my sleeve.
I am the one with a lover
who stays home on Friday nights.
I am the top
in Kansas City
who made you count with each whipping.
I am the black queen who got you into a
fight
after the bar closed.
I am the guy you saw at the fundraiser
who you heard might be sick.
I am the one
in the grope section who ripped open
your shorts.
I am the workplace wet-dream
that you always wonder about.
I am the one who comes in,
has a few drinks, and leaves.
I am the twenty-something militant
who kisses his boyfriend in public.
I am the older gentleman
who takes you out to dinner first,
"no questions asked."
I am your lover.
I am gay....
....with some assembly required.
Brian E. Bengtson
BUM
My dog and I
saw him lying there
in what could only
have been the bodily remains
of one more wasted afternoon;
in the early evening light
we almost thought
he could be a misplaced coat
left in the park.
I could see his cane,
let go from his shaking hand
and resting on the concrete
like some twisted act of healing;
as if the hand of God,
and not a cheap wine
told him he was free.
In that mixed bag of thought
which never starts
with the best foot,
this could have been me
had I turned left,
or leaned back
into the self-made void
of pity, wallow, and too much sleep,
or had fallen deep
and let the cracks caress me
like an old wool blanket
left out in the cold.
This could have been me
simply forgotten,
letting the time, smell and soot
of the world wash over
like the first chilling breeze
of an early spring night.