Tongues Out Queers

8am, Queen Street,

fittingly – laugh.

This guy,

let me tell you,

what a nice piece of arse,

as they say,

in his white tracky pants,

shall we say,

hi-lighting his "charms,"

first thing in the morning,

at the lights,

waiting for the green man.

Peak hour,

who'd have thought?

God bless

early gym,

I say.

There he was,

"all there,"

if you know what I mean.

Where to look?

It is hard to know,

in times such as these.

You can't just stare,

that isn't polite,

not quite right,

but my eyes

had different ideas,

not really

a surprise.

You should have seen,

"the head on that beer,"

as they say.

And my mind

was thinking,

thoughts of its own,

like me too, and,

I'd willingly

go under that bus

with my tongue out

queers.