POET  " CAM "

I stopped wearing long trousers, long sleeved shirts,
shoes, the day i quit my job,
living on nude beach a year was my plan,
superannuation / long-service / sick leave pay,
would smooth my way,
keeping me comfortable " on the lamb ".

Sun tanned my skin,
guys trekked in,
from local, nearby, interstate, overseas locations,
overtly to see sand dunes, dolphins, whales,
covertly open curious confident males,
enthusiastically established relations.

It was very nice,
some elements of paradise,
with locals it was like playing dice,
guys from elsewhere requiring less care,
as exquisite as it was,
it could only be a " purple patch ",
as unreal as " OZ ",
and i knew it would end and i would have to repair.

Bliss induced sleep on beach one day,
i dreamt i was living away,
working for bank,
in the " M.I.A. ",
shared house with group,
who were prone to prank,
soon we all drank,
tried my first cigar,
puffed deeply way too far,
turned green barffed all over the bar.

I decided to move to cold-free,
minimum humidity northern coastal location,
trading stockmarket financing me,
being me new vocation.

First year was fine,
got naked lots of time,
financial figures were lime,
new nude beaches were close,
frequented by most,
except internationals who were ghosts,
damn !

Second year stock market crumbled,
leaving me financially humbled,
nude beach numbers tumbled,
cultural markets stumbled,
internationals stayed away and i grumbled.

This year is unclear,
finances have modestly moved gear,
i've stopped getting frequently naked,
tan has slowly flaked,
culturally i am slaked,
internationals flee for their financial saked.

Winter warm Summer-like days,
surprisingly cold nights,
persists challenging Spring,
before reluctantly giving in,
moving away,
letting Spring have its say.

Summer at first great,
then pressure-cooker humidity,
making me hate,
finally wind blowing rain about,
prompting me to wear Clover,
discouraging Gay Mardi Gras being rained over.

Having four busy culturally enervating years,
doing my best to see it doesn't end in tears,
this is how life should be,
continuing writing Gay poetry,
should writings " evolution " lead me to form prose,
i shall write Australian Gay history we all knows.




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