He stood behind the blond boy, as he played with his pool
cue stick in the backroom of the bar. Jacking it up and
down like a shaft--inching his way to the backside of the boy.
Touching his jeans -- kissing his crotch against the young
man's butt. The young man relaxes, grinding to the music
bouncing off the black walls. Last year at the age of
seventeen, the blond boy was raped in the bathroom bar.
The older man runs his hands caressing the legs of this youth.
I see them coming around to cup the inside of his thighs. A gasp
of sex echoes under the neon lights. The two are enveloped,
swaying to the under beat of the music, connecting lost souls.
The blond smiles under the pool lights, they move as one,
then separate. A cue stick connects to the white ball.
The blond boy turns to face his intruder. They sloppily kiss as
the white ball hits the eight. The blond boy slides down
the older man's body. The eight ball tumbles into
the side pocket. The zipper
echoes the silence of the crack. I stand guard and transfixed.
A rustle of clothes -- a sound of a muffle -- a few escaped moans
belt buckle clinks. Whispers, laughter floats. The blond boy
leans against the pool table,
just grabbing his crotch.
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