Saturday, May 16, 2009

Sometimes the bus can save me, and what about his eyes?

I sit down on one of the seats in the back, and there’s this guy in one of the backwards-facing seats with green hair and he’s looking at me I’m looking at him he’s kind of glamorous he says: you look hella good today. I say: you look great too, I was just thinking that about you! And then he turns away quickly, I’m guessing it’s so I don’t think he’s a fag or whatever, I mean hella good, right? But then I’m thinking wait, maybe I’m doing that thing where I think that any guy who flirts with me must be straight, maybe he’s just really young and nervous or maybe he’s like me and it’s harder to cruise people he’s actually hot for so I keep looking at him to see if he’ll look back but mostly he looks out the window so I take covert notes about what he’s wearing.

Green highlights in the hair, no not really highlights they’re spots and the rest of his hair is dark brown, almost black. Skinny green tie, pink plug in one of his ears and a tiny bone tattooed on the other. Green shoes, blue pants no jeans dyed cobalt and the black sport coat with big green bugs on it and I’m trying to figure out whether they’re stenciled, waiting for him to look at me again so I can ask, there’s one on the collar of his shirt too, is the shirt green or gray -- pale green. Fluorescent green nails peeling, maybe he’s peeling them, is that what he’s doing with his hands? The shoes are painted green, some of the bugs are on patches sewn into the sport coat but the cloth matches almost too well, makes me think it’s part of the original jacket. He’s tall and skinny, with broad shoulders, and when he talks on the phone I listen for clues but nothing that goes super-straight or super-queer, just I’m going to Haight Street, wanna meet up?

We’re both getting off at the same stop, when he turns around I see black-and-white patches sewn all over the back of the jacket so maybe that means it’s all handmade or maybe he sewed them on top of the bugs. I look over at him while he’s waiting at the bus stop, to wave goodbye, but he’s still looking away.

Much later, at the vintage store I find this plaid coat that I can’t decide on because maybe it’s slightly too large but it’s a good deal and it doesn’t constrict my body so that seems like reason enough to get it -- the guy at the register looks me right in the eyes and says how has your day been, and when I answer I realize I sound super-excited: pretty good, how about you? Nothing much exchanged, but he’s still looking me right in the eyes, so much in the eyes that it makes me nervous because I’m sure he’s straight, he’s just looking at my hair, but then I think I’m really doing that thing where I think someone who’s cruising me is straight, I mean he didn’t say hella anything, right? What makes me think he’s straight? Is it his voice, the intonation, the way he uses his chin to inhabit masculinity, or just that I wasn’t thinking about him until he looked me in the eyes like that, bulky plaid and mod hair could go either way.

I linger, looking at the club flyers like people still look at club flyers I mean I do -- then on my way out I turn back and yes he is looking at me but I don’t know what to do really -- I’m too hypoglycemic to think of anything except to look back again, I mean the other guy who’s the manager looks kind of straight but he’s definitely a fag, what does that mean about this guy? Who the hell knows -- at Goodwill they have this rack of gorgeous ‘80s coats, I mean where did all these coats come from? It’s easier to decide with coats, or maybe not easier to decide but easier.

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