Filipino Boy- Invader of My Space

A Poem

You’re a strawless drink
a ginger ale-canned or a 
glass of Yuengling off the tap
on the bar at the Underdog Lounge.
I wish I could sip of you. Just a taste
on the nape of your neck and the tip of your lip
or to just entangle your love locks in my palms would
be enough.

I wish these school books would close long enough 
for me to know what it would be like to swim in your scented oils—
an herbal essence like the pine from trees 
and sanctifying cedarwood 

In every corner, I search for moments
to spend with you; for times to talk
and for reasons to touch you. Sometimes, I 
wish I had more to say and another place to 
stay besides the doormat when you leave on weekends.

I’ve realized, I don’t just want to fuck you 
or just smell you, but I want to know something like
what it is to be loved by you. Then, we could 
smell each other all day and all night. And, you could straddle me 
in broad day light—telling me stories and thoughts and 
streams of consciousness.

Let’s drive into the middle of nowhere with 
toothpicked sandwiches and quarter juices on our laps.
We could see houses that we’d never be able to afford
and laugh together about all the waste of the wealthy.
We could empty our minds onto the streets like protestors
or colored chalk on the pavement. We’d write WAR and LUST
and FIGHT and PEACE. Then, we’d leave.

I don’t want to think about sexuality, labels, titles,
masculinity, or femininity.  I just want to think about us
and Jimi Hendrix on the open road with the windows down.
And I want it to happen magically, physically, emotionally.
I want it to happen and we both say, “What the hell?” in the morning,
and by the afternoon try it again, and at night we could have a drink—
talking about the world like nothing ever happened.