Taxi Zum Klo

We’re watching Taxi Zum Klo,
Terrance and I, forty years
Past first release but I never
Saw it then, so see it now.
Sworn to sex, director/star,
As I was too back in those days.
I can’t quite explain to Terrance
What that was. He came out
Half a generation later
And by then caution was the way.
What’s odd about the movie is
How devoid of glamor the lead’s
Relentless repetitions are—
Stiff cock through a glory hole,
Tongues with ardor ransack mouths,
But what the goal was isn’t clear
Though I used to take it for granted,
Knew it lately as last week.
At baths and parks I might meet
Someone I was about to be,
Better, stronger than I was,
In allegiance to—what was it?
Some ideal I swore I saw
As if enjoyment was a man
Who’d love me if I devoted              
My life to him, and underneath
The glamor of apparent god
Were tasks down in the underworld,
Pushing boulders up a hill
Or turning on a wheel all night.
First there was the ardent seeker,
Burning heart to light the dark,
Then Cavafy full of longing
Gazing out through veils of sighs,
Now this older man observing
The sudden ceasing of a glamor.
Lights up in the movie house.
This was the place of all those dreams.

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