Occasionally an Amish buggy with drunk teenager occupants blasting country-western music clip-clops by... Dad has settled in for the night so I am left to my own devices.
I pick up my well-read copy of A Capote Reader and toss it aside listlessly. It is too early.
I slip out of the house quietly to avoid evening prayers and navigate the interstate. A purple "beater stick" pulses to Faithless' "God Is a DJ'.
The cityscape glitters, laid out before me. Everything I ever wanted.
OUR HAPPY HOURS: LGBT VOICES FROM THE GAY BARS
The hole-in-the-wall gay bar is dark. A few men sit around watching QAF which will revolutionize our culture:
The DJ at Club #2 bathes the floor in neon colors. Shirtless Adonis mix cocktails and pour beer from behind the bar. I am now actually old enough to order whiskey and Cokes.
AMONG THE LEAVES: QUEER MALE POETS ON THE MIDWESTERN EXPERIENCE
I shuffle on the floor to ATB and escape the clutches of a thirsty muscle queen, losing myself in the music. A known closeted preacher sits on the sidelines leering at me. He sends drinks to my table. I send them back. Back on the floor a stunning Latin dancer contorts to the beat, kissing me slowly to cheers and cat-calls around us...
"Get it bitch!"
"I want in on that!"
Surely I can't be the first Amish man to find this underground world...am I?
He drives us to his high-rise apartment in a flashy European sports car which purrs over rutted city streets. We sit on the balcony overlooking the city. He mixes drinks and plays electronica music.
I watch the late night traffic far below and imagine escaping my Amish life...
When he takes me in his arms I want more... Liberation.
I think about my praying father, my hostile family calling me a sinner and I feel cocky. I want to be in the city's embrace. At home I dive into my notebooks of scrawled poetry on these long, hot mad nights of summer... unbutton the shirt slowly. He likes that tonight.