Eighty-Six Must Be Our Secret Number
(BY Nicholas Garden)
Eighty-six must be our secret number
To say we are in love among a crowd.
We are one whenever we’re together,
Though we daren’t mention it out loud.
We giggle at the same idea unspoken
And smile in simultaneous disdain,
Existing in a single cell unbroken,
Two nuclei alike in joy and pain.
Outwardly we are just closest friends
Because we do not wish to cause distress.
But when we’re grown, the fairy tale ends
As we come out in more authentic dress.
Meanwhile we’re ourselves in secrecy,
Our silence merely adding to our glee.
A GLIMPSE (Walt Whitman)
A glimpse throughan interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove
Late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love silently approaching and
Seating himself near, that he may hold me by hand
Along while amid the noises of coming and going , of drinking and
Oath and smutty jest
There we two, content. Happy in being together,speaking little,
Perhaps not a word