One boy played soccer best. One boy aced all the tests. One boy touched my silky hair. One boy saw my underwear. One boy stole my school lunch. One boy held my hand a bunch. One boy called me names. One boy taught me games. One boy said he thought I was sweet. One boy kissed my blushing cheek. One boy bit my tongue. One boy ate my gum. Another boy called me chia pet. I never could forget that. And another ran track with me, and rubbed my feet at every meet. One boy had shining eyes, and eventually would tell me lies. Another boy was pretty short, but we made out when I was bored. I kissed one boy though he was gay, I kissed him in a different way. I kissed another boy I brought home, and he cut his Achilles, bled and moaned. I sold my guitar to see one boy, unfortunately that was a fleeting joy. Another boy made mix tapes, and so we drove out to the lakes, and at the lakes we lost our clothes, and later he picked a rose, and after that his uncle came and got us drinks, and talked of fame, and after that he drove me home, and called a girl on my phone. There was a boy from a store, who checked me out when I came through, and gave me things when I was blue. And later on he bought me drugs, and ate me out, and pierced his dick, and played around and couldn’t stick to me. In the end he wanted to be free. So another boy got me high, and we snorted coke all night, and talked of Nietzsche and Marx and Jung, and stayed in separate empty rooms. When morning came I wanted to die, and he decided he would save my life, and I told him to just be my friend, and he left and never came again to me. One boy walked with me each night. I liked him most, he was so bright. He moved to Oakland when I moved east, and he moved to Boston when I moved west. I thought he planned this out in jest. One boy had a hot tattoo, we walked under the full moon. One boy fucked me on a beach, he turned out to be a leach. Two days later I met a boy who worked in a bar and said I was coy, and we went away and came back, and I scraped my arm on his mat. One boy I met when I was low. When I could hardly feel my soul. And months went by and he talked to me, and said sweet things and I felt free. And when we were finally together, he was the one I thought I could weather. But that changed, and more boys came, and left, and never headed west. One boy licked my spoon, one boy trashed my room. One boy almost married me, I’m glad he didn’t what a dweeb. One boy had a giant heart, but was the most torn apart. I guess there were others, here and there. Nobody I’d like to share. That one left, that one too, they all had girlfriends and empty rooms. That one wasn’t ever mine, he just made me feel real fine. They all have names, it doesn’t matter, they all played games, it doesn’t matter to me. We were all waiting for someone to set us free. Someway looking to survive each day. Heartbroken anyway. When that’s the case there’s never a beginning, because every beginning is one long ending.
Clou le Fou
In conjunction with my photography exploring negative space, I have also been writing in that silent time between midnight and 4am, and here I have gathered memories and words from that space between dreams and reality.