I was smoking in Gertrude Street this morning, as I ran for a tram. I’d just lit it when the tram appeared over the rise, of course it did.
“Hey mate,” said the young kid, “Can you spare a cigarette?”
A cigarette in my mouth, and cigarettes in my hand.
“Yeah sure, here,” I said. “And I gave him the one I was smoking. I'd only really just lit it.” Saved me stubbing it out on the ground. I didn't look back for his reaction.
Pretty twenty-year-old guy, blonde hair, blue eyes, why not
It was one of those days where Manny surprised me with meeting up as I finished work, it was good to see him, it is always good to see him, but I already had a date with Kym.
I got on the tram to come home from the city, with Manny. Just after we got in an aboriginal boy asked Manny for money. Manny told the Aboriginal boy that he didn't work. The guy replied that Manny was all dolled up, how could he not work. (He's gay) Manny asked him what he meant. And neither of them understood the other momentarily, innocently. So, the kid walked off.
Manny asked me what the kid, all 6.2 of him, had said.
You look dolled up...er...doll. Dressed up.
Manny comprehended and then said, Perhaps I should have told him I was gay.
I don't think that would have helped, I said.
And we both laughed.
Sitting behind us was the aboriginal kids moll.
She turned around, in her toothless glory and said, Don't you go making fun of him, he's just trying to make the fare.
We weren't talking about him, I said.
She dismissed me, as though I was just another whitey lying to an aboriginal, yet again.
And I thought, no fuck you. You are wrong! I snapped. We were not talking about him.
She wailed something.
What? I demanded.
She smiled and said, Sorry, I was talking to him.
I turned around to see the 6.2 kid standing over me. Come on, we can get off, he said to her.
So, I'm screaming at Aboriginals on public transport now.
Although I have devised the perfect way of getting away from the people who ask me for cigarettes in the street. I say that it was my last one, shrug. Sorry. Or, I only came down from the office with one cigarette. Smile. If I'm not smoking, I simply say that I don't smoke. Sorry mate, never touch 'em.
Nobody gets hurt, but everyone becomes a little harder because of it. Er... no. It seems to be heading in the wrong direction. Sometimes I feel myself look away, not even acknowledging the beggars existence. There seems to be more people in the street asking for money. There seems to be no shame in it, anymore. (Not that there should be shame – Tom tells me that a good beggar can make one hundred and fifty dollars a day – but you get what I mean). Us and them is tangible. A physical manifestation. I can reach out any day and touch it.
How did we suddenly get the poor street people?
Thank you, Mr. Howard and his conservative govt cutting funding to social services.
Is this phenomenon built into conservative politician’s tax policy? I wouldn't be surprised.
I’d only just start still kissing Manny when Kym sms'd to say she was on her way for dinner.
When will she be here? Manny asked.
She didn’t say. Kiss me. I pulled my shirt off.
How long will she be? I undid my jeans.
I don’t know, she didn’t say where she was. Come here. I pulled his tshirt over his head.
Is she coming here, or meeting you at the café?
She didn’t say. Give me your cock!
What?
She just said she was on her way. I pulled the button fly of his jeans open and slid them down over his arse. He didn’t resist.
But how long have we got? I pulled his jocks and my jocks down.
But? Manny couldn’t help but smile.
I hurriedly text Kym to say I'd meet her at Cocos in half an half an hour.
I took naked Manny in my arms. Do you have to go? He asked.
I pushed him onto the bed and got it on with him quicker than I ever had.
Afterwards, puffing to get his breath, he smiled all sweaty and said, should we have a cigarette?
He doesn’t smoke. He’s adorable.
Cheeky smile. I feel like I need one, he said.
So, if I guessed that you were otherwise engaged, said Kym with a smile, as I sat before her half an hour later.
You’d be right, I said. Unexpected. Not being able to stifle my smile.
Big smile.
Dinner was nice. We sat outside at Cocos and drank wine. It was lovely.
And if I logged onto gaydar, I'd most probably have a date to go screw the delectable James T.
Oh, James has been around for ages. He went out with Dean (are you cured yet?) for a while, at some stage. Was a hairdresser. He's half-Italian. Cute. Little and nuggety. Enthusiastic bottom. Eyebrows up.
He worked at 80 for a minute. He gave me his phone number there one night and I never got it. Too stoned. In the pocket. Staggered off. Never thought about it again.
We did it once, but the two of us were so out of it that neither of us can remember it. (Big weekend in G Street, many years past) We figure we should have a refresher.
Might even introduce him to Manny. I'd like to see those two going at each other. (But at what cost, what monster doth we create?) Rutting like dogs. I've got precum.
But you know something, I've still got dope and I'd much rather stay home with it. Who can be bothered with all of that hoo-ha. Nice cup of tea.
You should see Manny sitting back on his haunches, naked. Smirk.
And now, I’m so ripped I can barely stand up.
Happy days!
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