Yulo.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

he passes by the house
though there is a doorbell he calls my name
(in fact, he is shouting that there is a man
with a covered face overtaking him and
takes refuge in the flowering bushes beside the fence)
i compromise and pretend that i agree with him
he is drunk, his wife left him, his children too
and lives in the old house
all alone,

and so where is the man? he says it is a shadow
a robust one, and it is running too fast past him
he is tipsy, his curly hair is glistening with oil
i mean it is unwashed for days
he is with a gay friend, a transvestite and
more beautiful than his wife

there is no man, there is no shadow,
i know, that he is lost, there is nothing to fear
but he has all these fears
of insufficiency, the incapacity to know what the real problem
is.
My house is fenced. I cannot invite one like him and have a drink.
I give him a bottle of whiskey, and tells his transvestite friend to take him
to the old house,
now at least, he is not alone anymore
someone is warm, someone loves him now, perhaps
higher than his dog, that waggles its tail
as soon as the front door is opened.