Poetry Corner - 'Old Gay'

Old Gay

Is my mouth too small, or my face too big?
I wish my belly didn’t move when I start to jig.
Beauty is only skin deep, but I have too much skin.
As a gay man I’m invisible, the only way is thin.

I am what I am, as long as it meets with your approval.
You don’t like it? I can change. My surgeon’s quite a marvel.
Am I too old to be a twink?
Ha, what do you think!

I love the gay scene, but it doesn’t still love me.
I’m yesterday’s man now, the boy who used to be.
Although my t shirts are still tight, it’s not a pretty sight.
Move over fat boy, you’re blocking out our light.

In gay years I’m 101, life over, deeds done.
How can someone like me still expect to have some fun?
But I still enjoy the music, the energy, the faces.
I could teach these lads a thing or two.
Put them through their paces.

Maybe not. A gin and tonic if you please.
No chance of romance here. I have the ‘old’ disease.
I should start a home for ageing gays.
You can join at 23.
A tea dance in the morning and an enema at 3.

I joke of course, for your amusement.
Life’s not so bad for a youth misspent.
For as I age, so do my friends.
On a carousel of fun where the party never ends.

I may be older, but I’m richer and there’s plenty good in that!
A big pile in the country, a houseboy and a cat.
So keep your tiny waist, your youth and your bad taste.
I’m happy as I am, now I’m past that, I’m a man.