Blue Toenails

Though they won’t prove his most notable feature,

his ripped-up over-decorated jeans

attract my notice first in the mid-American airport,

perhaps because, having just returned from Europe,

I’m more sensitive to our less formal

way of dressing in the USA.—-

 

Turns out that we are taking the same flight,

so I have the opportunity

to take a closer look: earlobes stretched

with big piercings, shaved arms and head

as well, under baseball cap, sleeve tattoo,

interlocking tribal red and black.

In his twenties, well-built, muscular,

with his girlfriend, who’s hot-looking, blond,

but minus his alternative look.

 

I run a gaydar scan, but it comes back

negative, even after, at the

baggage claim, I see that he has painted

his toenails a brilliant sparkling blue.

That’s pretty brave here in Oklahoma,

and I admire him for having the balls

to do his thing, fuck the stereotypes.

 

And yet, despite myself and even though

what the breeders do in bed is not

a topic that I tend to ponder a lot,

I can’t help picturing him on his back,

his legs in the air, and her, equipped

with strap-on, pounding him until he screams.

 

Copyright 2014

T. Allen Culpepper

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