Factory souvenirs

I had a gay friend once…
ouch…
I’ve always had alot of gay friends…?
(and jews, too, no doubt. Yes, of course…)
My mother had alot of gay friends…?
True, but hardly an improvement.

Well it’s germane to the story, dammit!
I had a gay friend once who used to
crack me up with jokes and ribs
about the seamy side of gay love…
I was probably too young
to fully appreciate it, but I did howl
when he would pronounce faggot
as if it were some high-class fowl
on a Michelin-starred restaurant menu….
Will you be having the fôgott ?

Sometimes he would get this real tortured look –
screw up his face – and then
he’d pull on the neck of his t-shirt
like Marlon Brando and say
Fuck me, beat me,
make me write bad checks.

Now why did I…
oh, I know, because, well, now I’ve lived a bit
since then – had a chance to check things out
with others of my gender and so on and so on
and something I can pretty much
confirm is true, reminded me
of my gay friend from The Factory
and his sketches from the otherworld…
like… sketches from Spain…?

What I’m pretty certain is universal
is that bad guys are good in bed…
and on the beach…in the back seat…
under the kitchen table.
I don’t really know why it should be
that the sleeziest characters
are often the most divine…shall we say, companions?
But there you have it. The badder they are
the better they are.

Women of the world know this…
I would say wealthy men seem to know this too
since they often try to buy their way around it.

But you just can’t.

.
.

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