March 31, 2005

using poetry to be vague about my personal life! infer! infer!

From David Leavitt’s Martin Baumann

There is a joke—not a very good one—
that I remember hearing a lot in those years,
the mid-eighties.

"So this lesbian is having a drink with her straight friend,"
the joke goes
"and she says that the next day she and her lover
are celebrating their fifth anniversary.

'Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you,'
the friend says,
'when you people talk about your anniversary, do you mean the anniversary
Of the day you met?
Of the first time you slept together?
Of the day you moved in together?'

And the lesbian says, 'Yes.'"

Much can be deduced, from this joke,
about the speed with which Eli and I,
in the weeks following our long-postponed meeting,
moved from blind date to what he was calling,
even on the second night,

"Trial Marriage."
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.