Wednesday Poem, Jack and Beau

Wednesday, what can I say?

It is a good day,

for realising what you did on the weekend,

was not just drunken behaviour, per se,

but really pretty fucken gay.

You and your buddy, Jack,

that wasn't just boredom,

or too many beers,

that was pretty fucken queer.

Not that I am pointing a finger,

there should be more of it,

there is more of it,

just not a lot of talk about it

out loud.

You straight boys,

with your big toys,

when there are no girls around,

you always come around,

to getting with each other,

not that there is any bother,

with that, brother,

just what your other mates,

down the footy club,

might say, if they saw you and Jack,

treat each other that way.

Lovely Jack, you and he,

always the best of buds,

you'd agree,

he's got lovely eyes,

you have always noticed, you can't deny,

and you'd do anything for him,

and on the weekend, you pretty much did.

In your arms, so disarmed,

that you have always felt that way about him,

especially when you are 6 to 10 beers in.

Beau said he liked it and would do it again,

with you, he said, he’d do it again with you

and that spun your head,

when you’ve both only ever gone for girls,

and to your surprise, you liked Beau too,

but you weren’t admitting to that taboo,

oh no. But you did now think Beau was handsome,

something you couldn’t explain. And Beau told you

that you were just so good looking, he had to say

not really in a way that was gay, but matter of fact,

although after what you’d both just done,

how could he not say it was… er… let’s say fun?