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the only boy who
could ever teach me
anything was the
son of a preacher man,
Bobby John Jack
in the alley sittin'
hard in the cadillac,
Dusty Springfield
blastin' from the
leopard deck,
speakers in back,
the only boy who
could ever teach me
anything was the
son of a preacher man,
"can you get away tonight
Pony Boy?" Bobby John Jack
asked, lurin' me to bite.
"might." looking down to
see how much he'd grown,
leather gear strapped around
his muscled rear, son of a
preacher man, he's queer,
"tonight, Bobby John Jack."
I walked away slow so his
coconut suntan oil didn't fade,
took out my silver Zorro, the
gay blade and cut the air,
I had it made,
elevator took me up to floor 22
Asian, African, German, Jew,
some gay, some straight too,
don't think I made it, heard
the plane hit the tower,
God! We're dyin' forgive
our sins, black smoke inferno,
terrorists in power,
"not tonight, Pony Boy."
Bobby John Jack planted
me a memorial flower,
the only boy who
could ever teach me
anything was the
son of a preacher man...
Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
Pony Boy's Angel
Pony Boy, who did
you love on earth
when you were
running with that
brat pack...
Wasn't Sammy or
Dean Martin, was
the olives in the
cocktail of Bobby
John Jack...
Pony Boy, was
Bobby John Jack
a singer...
Nope...Bobby John
Jack was the son of
a preacher man, a
playwrite gay swinger...
Pony Boy, what color
of eyes did Bobby John
Jack have...
Sinatra Blue, the shade
one sees just before
the plane hit the tower
and dies...
Pony Boy, what have you
learned in your earth life...
The son of a preacher man
was the only boy who could
ever teach me anything,
sharp as Zorro, the gay blade,
my knife, I learned how to act
like George Hamilton, my dreams
went up in smoke, tan lines instantly
to burnt flight toast...
Pony Boy, what date do you want
to start your gay angel internship...
September 11, 2006, five years I
have been gone, I looked out
the 22nd floor tower window
just before and saw Bobby John
Jack's quivering lip...he saw the
plane and prayed like a preacher
man's son...
Pony Boy, I put my finger in
this Holy water, you have
been baptized and assigned
your wings, heaven is
free of bigotry,
Go bring your boys OUT...
Life is not measured by the number
of breaths we take...but rather...
by the moments that take our
breath away...
Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
Sonny G