TILL FRIDAY

Vincent’s hand
holds more than just
this part of me
his dark fingers
curl around my pale dignity
and all my prowess
and stern pretensions
disappear

We ease into the traffic
of the Northern Freeway
and begin our play
the radio blares a song
by Don Mclaen
that has his name
but he just smiles
and understands
that what he does
he does for rands
and what I do
is for the solemn pleasure
of his hands

His clothes are cleaner
than last time
his wiry hair is shining
it makes me think
he has prepared
has practised this new part
but still I know
there are no freeways
no off-ramps to his heart

Cars switch on headlights
that act as spotlights
to this scene
we have to hide
pulling down our shirts
when trucks or busses pass
so that our acting
is not seen

My right hand
holds the wheel
my eyes steal glances
at his proud glory
‘nineteen’ he’d said
‘but fully grown’
he preens at my averted praise
and my eyes take pictures
of this stage
that will finally develop
in another age
becoming real
only in another dream

I drop him off
with payment
and a pair of gifts
a t-shirt for him
with the words
so carefully chosen
‘my name means happiness’
and a pretty pink dress
for his daughter
called ‘Freedom’

Vincent’s hands
caress my thigh
and we kiss goodbye
till Friday


(Drawing: Vincent by Carlton)
© Carlton Carr 2013
http://othervoices.blog.co.uk/