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  • Jimmy Broccoli

I Breathe in the Stars as he Embraces Them from Beneath Me

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be like everybody else…


And then I realize I wouldn’t want that at all. Not fuck at all.

_____


I walk into his suburban home (for the first time) –

it’s cozy and the furniture appears more stylish than comfortable –

the barstools at the breakfast nook counter are nicely modern and colorful –

I wouldn’t want to sit on any of them –

they appear hard, uncomfortable, and awkward


Wooden dining room chairs –

surrounding a glass and chrome rectangular table –

it’s all fucking mix-matched and shit -

Table and dining room chair fuckery – because they don’t belong together –

I decide not to think a fuck about any of it –

is that a foosball game in the corner of the room (?) – and I chuckle


He brings out the bottle and it’s my brand


He then takes off his shirt, seductively, and I don’t think he means anything by it –

It’s how he takes off his shirt –

He has lived alone for a few years –

and I suspect he watches a lot of movies –

(nobody removes their shirt like that, except in cinema) –

But he does and it is masculine – and I can appreciate it (and I’m watching) –

I’m watching, as I take a swig from the bottle he hands me


His shirtless back is muscular – unexpectantly cut and crisp and defined –

Under my shirt is a different story – but I’ve been working out –

beginning – and, perhaps, he’ll notice –

I think he is more masculine than I am –

and I haven’t run across that in a very long time


For fuck’s sake – we’re hanging out on his porch –

I haven’t smoked a cig in years – and here I am – with him –

“it’s a cigar, so you ain’t cheating”, he tells me, and he smiles –

“yeah, okay”, I say as I look away, so I don’t obviously stare at his chiseled chest –

my insecurities wish he could be less attractive…


from the porch-chair next to mine, he moves in closer to me – and I sit still –

I hand him the bottle (as I’ve done throughout this late afternoon) – and he takes a drink –

he looks at my shirtless self (he asked me to take it off, so I did) -

and he seems kind of okay with what he sees –

and I smile


“Let’s go swimming”, he recommends – and I’m caught off guard –

“I didn’t bring my trunks”, I say – and he smiles –

so, we go swimming –

and he stares at every inch of my personality –

and he smiles and approves –

In the pool I cling to a floatie like it’s a life raft – I just don’t yet know if I’ll need it or not


The evening arrives and presents itself with majesty –

stars twinkle above and I feel they are twinkling for me –

hope – anticipation – apprehension thrown aside (for the moment) –

The evening arrives and I greet its arrival with a bow of appreciation


“I wonder what it would be like to be like everyone else”, I say –

though I didn’t plan to say it aloud


He leans into me, tenderly, masculinely – and I lean in too –

he kisses me gently –

I, then, am looking down at him as he looks up at the stars –

As I am above him -

He closes his eyes during the final moments, as I do –

and the stars disappear – until we no longer breathe heavily –

until we are (once again) able to look at the stars and be amazed by them


His furniture is mismatched –

his dining room table and chairs are at war –

his chest is as manly as his masculine back –

- and he’s kind and good to me

and I’m unsure how to mentally process any of this


“I like you”, he says (after we’re finished) –

“I like you too”, I say, then I kiss his forehead


“Let’s go to the theatre tomorrow”, he recommends –

“Are we making plans?”, I ask – and he says yes –

“yeah, okay”, I say – and I smile


I walk to my car, in front of his house, and pause –

“yeah, okay”, I say – and I smile again (to myself) –


he’s kind of amazing –


and I don’t hate it


Photo: Jimmy Broccoli.


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