Upon a Ledge – Fifteenth 10 Twitters

My face grew cold, my heart broken, yet my voice steady and unaffected. I suggested to my friend, Bob, that we leave and head elsewhere.

I never saw him again, my older kisser. I walked by his shop many times, looked in, but didn’t go in or speak to him. My heart was broken.

It was not the first time my heart was broken, nor would it be the last, but it was the most striking. I had never expected to see him.

So I moved on, went to my first bathhouse, where I met someone both interesting and intriguing, someone who would want me for something.

He had a house in Marin, with a turret and a magnificent view. The pool alone was wonderful beyond imagination, and the drive out startling.

I was subdued by his house, his apparent wealth. He thought I didn’t want him, at least not enough to enter him. Such a wrong assumption.

It is with that wrong assumption that I fall to 79, the year I was in SF. I next met someone from Buenos Aries. His friend was very wealthy.

[long lapse. now 12 October 2009]
…so he ran. He was always in his dreams of falling, traveling through the sky in a blur of forever blue. Across a moment of time, forever.

Upon a Ledge – Fourteenth 10 Twitters

With those final memories of David, I fall to 80 and see eleven of you watching me, reading my words, hearing my stories, faces on glass.

Three more join the eleven, making a crowd of fourteen watching me out here in the empty: no spider to keep me company; no friends guiding.

Two have left the window, two who found nothing of favor in watching me fall, or listening to my stories of days gone by in a far off land.

So there I was, my one best friend dead by his own hand, no boyfriend in sight, and no end of curiousity about what was going on at the bar.

Magically, I met a very interesting man who owned a shop near Castro. It was full of art deco, art noveau; both are a favorite to this day.

He introduced me to so much: authors, artists, ideas. Others may have had more beautiful bodies, but none could compare to his filled mind.

What a bedroom he had! There was a view of San Francisco that was exceptional. His place was on the hill above Castro, and was quite nice.

He was an amazing kisser! I could just melt, thinking about his delights. You know, though; not once did we go out for dinner, even coffee.

My friend from Seattle, the one I first lived with, to hang out with my first boyfriend who I moved to San Francisco with, he came to visit.

I took him on a tour of Castro, to all the bars and their patrons. He was just a friend; we had never had sex, never would, not even once.

We walked into the one cool bar on Castro, and just inside the front door was the amazing older kisser, lips wrapped around another man.

Upon a Ledge – Thirteenth 10 Twitters

I was devastated. David had never hinted or said anything that would have let me know what he was thinking. I still don’t understand why.

He had a boyfriend, and I had no one; he had a good job, mine was gone in exchange for six months payments; yet, he chose to end his life.

It puzzled me, and left me wanting to sit down with him and ask why, to understand, to engage him in a conversation like the old days were.

He was no longer there, even though he just had been. This was the second time death had touched; the first was when I was in high school.

He was an older boy, who was out on a logging pond. I don’t remember if he was working or horsing around, but something happened, and death.

It was that sudden “now he’s here, to be looked up to; now, he’s not” that caught my attention and left me wondering, waiting for the rest.

But I didn’t think of that then, in high school; and, I didn’t think of it later, when David took his own life. It was with sleeping pills.

He didn’t even have the courage to use a knife across his wrists, or a gun to his head, or a rope around his neck. He simply took too many.

Lay himself down to sleep, and I wonder what dreams he may have had: sorrows unending perhaps; silent waters filtering slowly across gravel.

Or, did he simply fall off into the nothing of solid cloud, filtered moments across no time at all. Is he still there, in that nothing spot?

Upon a Ledge – Twelfth 10 Twitters

Upon the moon I speak, sing; towards shining gossamer globes, I fix my eye firmly upon the prize; and there I sink myself, a ring; suicide.

David and I were friends, bosom buddies, tolerant of each other’s foibles and crazy errancies, each forever the other’s friendly ear.

He had a boyfriend who loved him, in Sausalito. On a Friday, I would ride the ferry over to stay with him, and we would walk the streets.

I progressed quickly at work, and soon I met another man there who wanted me to go camping with him; he, I, and many others, and so I went.

While we were at the campground, he wanted to have sex with me, but I wasn’t interested. I said, “No, thanks,” thought nothing more on it.

On the drive back to the city, especially on the Bay Bridge, he began driving really erratically. I remember that just now, as I fall past.

Back at work, I avoided him. It seemed best, considering how he wanted and expected me to want him back. David was a much clearer friend.

And then the day arrived, the time they asked me to choose: a move to the primary financial office, or a very generous six month severance.

I took the severance, thinking six months pay with no work to do, what could be better? I couldn’t wait to share the good news with David.

I looked for David everywhere: at work, in Sausalito at his boyfriend’s house. His boyfriend told me David had taken his own life, suicide.

Upon a Ledge – Eleventh 10 Twitters

I look up at 82, as I fall one more floor. There are eight of you now, at the window, noses pressed against the glass and watching intently.

Now there are nine, here at floor 81. Shall I tell you about what happened in the SF financial district? There I was, in many ways a boy.

A boy wandering in a man’s world, thinking that perhaps there was something here I had not yet experienced or thought of. Tremendous highs.

Tremendous lows, as everything I thought I was so sure of came unraveled once I had touched it. And I traveled from bar to bar, seeking you.

There are ten of you now, watching each word that flies from my fingers to this intent, for who knows how you may be reading my thoughts.

I wondered the same of those I passed each day in SF, what they were thinking and feeling, what else could be behind their watch of me.

There I summoned answers from nothing, finding lost containers in far off ports not seen, each nothing more than a transcription error.

For a year I worked there, moving from one foreign port to the next, never leaving my SF digs. All the while continuing to explore the city.

Rough walks around city alley ways and darker haunts, moving from shadow to shadow under ancient trees, always with one eye on the lookout.

My day job knew numbers and how they could be transposed into something unnecessarily cruel, but my nights were full of the moon’s beauty.

Upon a Ledge – Tenth 10 Twitters

SF was the land of promise, of trepidation and eager platitudes found wanting each and every morning, forever following the awkward sun set.

Each and every night I was out: drinking beer, playing pool, dancing, and watching the other men. Usually alone, I would explore bars.

The Giraffe, Polk St was my favorite haunt for playing pool. I would show up, scope out the players, and then attack with ferocious abandon.

Mother will be glad to hear that not once did I pick up a man at the Giraffe, or at least so I remember. I did do acid there, once. (giggle)

That was a trip. But not nearly as much of a trip as later, just before I left SF, but that’s a later Twit. For now, I’m exploring Polk St.

And Castro St, let’s not forget that one. Ah, men on every corner just hoping to be picked up, to go home with you and explore the random.

Beer, beer, and more beer, all on Castro. And men, too. Beautiful men from all over the country, there to be part of the gayest city ever.

I was there, as well, wandering the streets at night and sometimes during the day, seeking my own answers to questions that reside in each.

But to pay bills, I needed work. I found a new job at a different security company, and cemented my position with them by sex with my boss.

Not a beautiful man, by any means. His dick was twisted and weird, and I would never have chosen him except he had the ability to give work.

Work I got, so there I was in the heart of the financial district, where I met David. He got me a job as an analyst tracking containers.

Upon a Ledge – Ninth 10 Twitters

It’s a good thing I saved as much as possible, because when we got to SF I paid the rent on a ratty room with cockroaches, ants, and mice.

I went looking for work, something to do to buy groceries with. What I got was a job as a security guard, standing around at the front door.

Twice throughout the night, I walked up every floor, put my key into a little metal box and turned it. No one ever messed with my boxes.

On the 40th floor, I stood and looked out over the city I had once lived in. I had never seen downtown from this vantage. Such a sight!

Then there was the earthquake, the one that I felt while standing there on the 40th. The building actually shook such that the floor swayed.

It’s weird I can remember all these details about working as a stupid security guard, but can’t remember the man I went to SF with: Steve.

I barely remember what he looked like, not a thing about making dinner together, or drinking a beer together, or even of going out to a bar.

I do remember his moving out, though. I quickly found a place living with a gay man who was pretty cool, and let me do whatever I wanted.

That was a very cool time! A cool apartment in a run down neighborhood, with a very cool roommate I lusted after but never touched at all.

And so I fall to 82, with seven followers now along for the ride. The good part is still coming, wrapped in the polite yet understated tone.

Upon a Ledge – Eighth 10 Twitters

Like Christmas it was, unwrapping first one and then quickly on to the next. I was taken with feeling a man up there, where none should be.

So the other one, the man the built one introduced me to. Well, he gave me a name and an address and said, “Go. You’ll love it. He’s rich.”

So I went to a pool party, introduced myself at the speaker as the one he had given the invitation to the prior week. He came to the door.

Then he led me upstairs and had his way with me. Only afterwards he told me he was the man’s buddy. Share and share all alike, I suppose.

I was sweet candy taken from the dish of life and left to dissolve under the tongue. Such a moment to remember in all its utter simplicity.

I felt so used and dirty afterwards, at the time. Now I look back and laugh. Laugh at the small town boy so enamored of money and muscles.

So I still am, enamored of muscle and money. Muscle is so much fun to play with, and money is always nice: the ability to do unusual things.

But then what could be more unusual than to fall past floor 84 to 83? There remain six of you following me from floor to floor intermittent.

Will you follow me to SF? For the man I met next took me there. Back to the place I had left because I didn’t want to be a pastor or saint.

We made it as far as somewhere just south of Salem, where we stayed with his family and I worked in a pea and then corn plant for money.

Upon a Ledge – Seventh 10 Twitters

The memories of those days are clearer than I would have imagined, here on floor 85 where the spider left me, spinning up and away for ever.

Will he land on the next to step off the ledge? Tell him of my travels here from floor to floor, each closer to the bottom than on the last.

As I consider the spider telling the next of my travail as he steps off into the nothing, I grin. Such a thing, a warning yet from a spider.

I turn my face into the wind and fall to 84, there to see five followers watching intently my antics as I spin, twist, and turn myself down.

Down to memories, to the individual route I took to this place. Such memories! After Danny, I continued to dance and drink, and to see Tiny.

And dance with her. It was so much fun! I don’t remember going home with a single man from the Brass Door, the Monastery, or the Timberline.

Except Greg, the owner of the Brass Door. He was hot and fun, but we remember little of him. I do remember an older man who took me camping.

He had one of those ranchero style cars with one long seat and a camper over the entire back. I sat next to him on the drive up to the tree.

And there, in the sahde of that mighty tree, he did to me what we had done to Danny. We thought we were in heaven, feeling that so up there.

Greg had also been up there. And there was another boy that slipped our memory. He was very nicely built, and introduced me to someone else.

Upon a Ledge – Sixth 10 Twitters

That morning, what we dreamed of becoming, had lusted after and impaled myself against became reality. Tiny got out of bed, and walked over.

She went past our bed and into the bathroom, where she spent a great deal of time preparing herself for who knows what. I snuggled into him.

I was happily content, snoozing through the morning, no thoughts of dancing or becoming the center of attention, yet Danny had better plans.

He scrunched his butt up into me and gyrated just a bit. Thinking back on it now, it was meant to advertise his willingness for me to enter.

Danny took the initiative, reaching over and grabbing a handful of gook out of a tube, and reaching behind to lube himself quite completely.

Then he put his hand on me, felt it for a moment, and then aimed directly for his hole. I had never felt anything like it in my entire life.

I moved against him, without thought for anything other than how it felt: wonderful. It was the culmination of everything I had done before.

I picked up my tempo and thrust again and again. There was nothing other than being inside of him and finding myself the center of his song.

Then I froze, rigid against him, my insides erupted, poured myself into him, made him mine. There was nothing else like it in my experience.

Tiny walked back into the room, with a tray of coffee she had made in the bathroom. “You look like you could use some,” she said innocently.