Classic Poem

It was an international rage
sweeping the youth of Europe, the world
of young men involved with music,
clothes, sex: a pursuit of enjoyment
as the only aim in a boredom of affluence.

It was a convenient kick,
more mature than drinking, keener than pills,
and a brotherhood from Istanbul to Puerto Rico
which turned us on to that softer life.
We smoked together confidently
appreciating the affection billowing around us.

And then, blow by blow, as the season months
stole by, you grew out of me
with visions and mind-blocked dreams
of a trip you must take to understand
the influence of your pituitary gland.

A Norwegian girl's hands groping on a car back-seat,
a French virgin succumbing at night on the beach,
an American widow, a typist who's Swiss,
an English air hostess, a German gym mistress,
a growling Dutch lesbian with contact lenses,
and a dozen Swedish whores in studied frenzies . . .

The cherry boy, once the sweetest prize,
was growing gnarled before my eyes.