peripheral vision - a private opera

written in part in November 2001 and finished 3 January 2002 copyright © 2001-present James Sanghyun Han (a.k.a. steal this and DIE)


he smiles and shows his teeth
and he is the young Paul McCartney, with better hair
he stares at me out the tops of his eyes
and he's like the love child of Jet Li and a cheb from Algiers

when we walk side by side i feel ugly
i am a skidmark on the asphalt
a phantom in my own private opera
but then he looks at me sideways
and my fingers are covered by his
and i gleam like a puddle in sunshine

he laughs and pulls away from my grasp
and he is my first love, but with better clothes
he grins at me from a nook in his cheek
and he's like Aladdin from that Disney movie - sickening, I know

when we get on each other's nerves
i am like the bottom of the ocean
an ooze in the frigid, wet-dark deep
but then he lies on top of me
and my toes curl as my breathing goes weird
and i mutter in random tongues:

puer, sine tactum meum frui ipsem
motto fukaku, omae no nioi ga ee ya na
et labi labia dulcissima praeter meum corpus

yawning from behind, he puts arms 'round my torso
and he is a young Carl Sagan with wild, dark hair
his head sinks into the neighboring pillow
and he is Suburban Man sawing logs into my ear

when he pushes for room i feel invisible
i am blank, unsure and shriveled
a dry crackly leaf trapped in a stone box
but then he reaches for my arms
whimpers, putting a warm head to my chest
and my heart blooms with a rose of blood

and then we walk side by side and i feel godly
almost like we're an incestuous Dioscuri
or Zeus with a Ganymede willingly ensnared
and then on the periphery of our vision they yell at us, jeer, laugh
and we are suddenly underdog heroes in our own private action movie
Robin Hood and the original James West holding hands and eliciting glares

he looks at me sideways and puts arms 'round my torso
and he is my first love, murmuring nasty thoughts into my ear
he gleams at me like a puddle in sunshine
and he is a young Carl Sagan with wild, dark hair

and privately i note - this is no lame phantom opera
but still a sort of music worth it me to hear


Paper or Pastiche?
Ganymede's Library
Ganymede's Palace