Date: Thu, 7 Feb 2002 07:23:21 -0500
From: C. E. Jordan <c.e._Jordan@MailAndNews.com>
Subject: MY DENNIS - 12 .....Coda in Two Parts

My Dennis Copyright c.e. jordan

		       DENNIS 12: A WALK BY THE SEA


     The late afternoon is falling toward evening and the water is the
color of weak tea. It keeps rushing away, but then races back toward
us, foaming and licking at our bare feet. His fingers occasionally
tighten around mine as if to say, 'I'm here...I'm here...I'll always be
here...'

     I glance down at him and can't believe how beautiful he is. The late
sun turns the water a liquid gold. My boy, all curls and large eyes, is
just twelve heading for thirteen in a month or two. He's unusually
quiet, but words seem beside the point today. The boy lets go of my
hand and runs ahead for ten feet or so, then he trots back to me.
His light brown body is sleek and perfect. Touched here and there
by the sun...cheeks...breast...arm... belly...leg...he is becoming liquid
gold like the water....like the sun itself. Oh, my little sungod. Oh...his
hot dark eyes and curly hair. His body is bare except for the dark blue
swimming trunks. He's holding out his arms to me and smiling.

     "Up." Is all he says. He wants to ride on my back. D is slender
and light, so riding on my back is no problem. But my boy, agile as a
monkey, climbs up even further, so now he's actually riding on my
shoulders. Slim brown legs descend on either side of my head
and his arms wrap around my neck. I can hear him humming
contentedly...some tuneless, happy melody.

     As we walk quietly along the water's edge, D's wordless song
weaves into the sighing breezes, and becomes part of the constant
rush of the ocean. But my own racing blood almost deafens me
because where the boy's crotch presses insistently against the
back of my neck, I am suddenly aware of a small swelling hardness.

     I sigh and gently stroke those long slim legs coming down on
either side of my head; it's a small acknowledgement of his
sensual desire...of our mutual pleasure in each other's company.
We are together this perfect day. There is only 'now', there is only
beauty, perfection....and love. This is our long moment. He keeps
humming into the void. And I keep walking. Right now there is no
need for anything or anyone else.

c.e.j
------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                             DENNIS 12: CODA


     It's nearly 5:am and it's one of those nights.....sleep refuses to
come....and the past  rushes back on the cool night air. It's persistent,
like some vague perfume....old desire interweaves with....memory.
It's an exotic fugitive sensation. Should I let myself be drowned in
this......this 'thing' I'm feeling? Perhaps I should just turn on the TV
and try to lose my  mind in the laughter, But, at this moment, I don't
think I can take the Television's fake humor, or any news of the
world's endless tragedy. Besides, it probably wouldn't keep me
from remembering.

     You know, I can go for months without remembering. But
occasionally, late at night like this....I can almost...almost feel the
ghost of a touch...I can almost feel him again warm in my arms...
is that puff of breath on my ear my imagination?....No, it's just the
breeze from the window. It has been years since my young love
and I actually touched. The boy is now a man and he has become
a voice on the phone...an occasional six month surprise deep in
the night. I don't know why he calls so late, at 3am...or 4....or even 5.
He should be wrapped tight in his lady's arms dreaming of
softness...of being safe...of a future stable and straight. But instead,
every now and again, there is his voice on my phone wanting to
know how I am doing or what I am doing. I remember not so long
ago when that voice was so weightless it could be mistaken
for a girl.

     As a kid whenever we were apart he called me a hundred
times a day--at home, at school, the office, murmuring soft things
in my ear--things he just had to tell me, nothing special, just just
ordinary things, but in a voice made husky with desire. Yes,
desire--always our subtext and tension even when he was a
mere thin brown boy.

     But now, I listen very carefully to that voice on the phone.
So different, yet in many ways the same. As he speaks to me,
I notice the new quiet resonance, so deep...and confident as
always. But do I detect something else there? Some familiar
velvet undertone? No. I must be imagining it.................but....

..........maybe...beneath the "What's up, how're you doin...'", phone
chatter, is an unspoken acknowledgment of that 'thing' between
us that refuses to go away; the thing which keeps me awake
nights when I should be sleeping, and the thing which impels
him to call when he should be in his lover's arms.

     On my end of the line, I am careful to keep my answers
and my voice casual--normal. He can't hear my beating heart
or see the stupid wet stream slipping from my eyes as I hang
up the receiver. In the soft darkness of my room I can almost
see the little phantom from another time, an exuberant
shadow-boy, whose laughter once fell around me like
refreshing rain....whose light touches could calm me, or
excite me in equal measure....

     Anyway, it's almost morning and here I am still typing
away as if anyone cares about my dumb feelings. What has
love got to do with it? I guess just about everything--and
nothing.