Saturday Night Poem by Tony Best

I must go tonight, said the
boy and never come back.
the night is blue-black, I
know too what is to be dark.

Buses and trains make
fairy sounds in this dark.
He licks his sensuous fine
lips, and rejoices to be

Young and hungry on
this saturday night. Here
was the club, almost as
though it had journeyed

to meet him. Lightly he
stands against the firm
backs of other boys
standing in line.

He smells sweat, stale
acrid sweat and unwashed
hair. He likes it.
he likes the strong

ammonia smell of
semen too. Good smells.
Yes, to be young and
hungry is a fine thing.

Music echoes off run-down
walls to parachute into my
mind. keeping rhythm with
my ba-bum, ba-bum. Inside

sound is tossed back and
forth like frisbees. Voices
reverberate off walls. They
remind of castanets.

Someone approaches, foosteps
like drums, walking the music!
Ah, his steps mingling with voices
creating new castanets.

God let his face complement
his music. I am afraid my
darkness will shade the light
of those piercing blue eyes.

We walk in silence.
no need for words.
We have always
known each other.

Outside in dark dirty
alley, cats watch with
glowing eyes as we
undress in the black-blue

night. Our bodies pulsing
with music. It is good to be
young and hungry
on a saturday night.