Translation from the Gay
Alexander Best

It was a typical afternoon. I entered the airy thickets of staghorn sumach in the ravine dividing quiet neighbourhood from roaring riverside highway.

I said hello (touched the crotch) of any number of men wary or shy, and some of us became instant friends (they touched mine).

We played with ideas (fondled one another’s rumps); conversed more widely (placed lips on different limbs); added the occasional comma (tugged an earlobe using teeth); italicized the odd phrase (licked up spines, from coccyx to nape of neck).

Sometimes we were of one mind and could complete each other’s sentences (doggy-style’d with heads close and mouths grazing).

Once in a while I told the truth (took all my clothes off, in broad daylight) while others lied (wore dark sunglasses) even as they boldly looked upon me with blacked-out eyes. Sometimes it was me was the liar (nude, I fancied myself free and natural) while my heart was honest (it pumped at great speed—for bashers drew near).

Rarely, we sang a song.* More often, I sang solo* while mute men watched, all ears.

*Note: Some folkways are ineffable; plain English will have to do.