Category: Rituals

For more than 20 years identity and gender were secret
an obvious pseudonym
located prominently at the front of the magazine
savaging BPs, almost BPs, and wannabe BPs
scattering sins and gossip like dog and excrement.
Close – very close to home
and the margins of libel –
or would be if truth was slander,
most shut up, rather than ask him, or her,
to put up.

Most reading the magazine turned directly to these pages
even if some did not admit
titillation could always be found
even when sounding tame or passé
          .  .  . 
“ heard it all before, right
ageing graying film director shacked up with
hot young starlet
abandoned the marital nest and moved in with the
pouting, steamy one
yawn yawn –
except,
not a penis between them.”

Transformation,
black can become white
or
white become black.
Hard to recall now, those days when nicotine was unwelcome,
before exiled outside –
not furtive,
always owned up to
and no pretending not to.
The reign
of tobacco as king
and Queen princes and princesses eager to be inducted.
Cooler couldn’t be cool without glowing tip
clouds on planes, trains, movie theatres,
shopping malls,
teachers walked around school yards – fagging
while looking for smokers.

Apparently the biggest butt pain
wasn’t regulations or opprobrium
but bludging
some always ….
An old colleague told me about before he gave up
he carried two packs
the one in use
and one with just one
“sure,” cheerful and obliging … passing the dummy pack
“ no, no I couldn’t take the last one. ”
Worked every time he said

Conscience, thought to belong to wrongdoing
regret
recrimination
atonement for sins
making good, for being bad.

He had been a member of the beautiful people
influential
a respected member of law enforcement
put away criminals – for years.
Retired early
successful.
A busy cafe
conspicuous arrival
faux classic motorbike and real leathers
fashionable dishevelment
looking all James Dean anti establishment
making bad, for being good.
There was something forlorn about it.