3 boys and 20 minutes
Filip Fufezan
a pool table nestled,
corner of the pub,
next to
license plate wall art,
newspaper clippings,
neon signs.
Chapped Lipped Waitress rushes by,
her hurried face red,
interacts with
elder trucker men, drinking
whatever’s on tap,
beer orange-yellow fizzing,
talk about work,
their faces scarred, eyes small,
my friend said that
it’s like
Twin Peaks here,
here in this mountain town,
one street only and…
she keeps talking but—
2 boys gather,
I watch, careful glances,
fantasy of connection
slips my attention
from my friend to them—
oh their smiles
faces flush with mountain air,
their hair the way I want mine
2 boys gather
by the pool table they nestle,
Corona they drink,
game starts and
oh fuck,
boy 1 bends,
ass framed in sweats—
boy 2 lifts his Corona,
flesh revealed
as black shirt unveils
the soft of his belly
where I wish to explore,
red lips around the bore,
wet,
(i have eagle eyes)
his tongue caresses
the inside of the bottle, then—
to the right,
in walks boy 3,
his face red too from
winter solstice breath,
or from a
10-person mountain orgy,
everyone cosplaying as wildness:
bucks and bears and wolves and
my heart’s pounding,
I want them—
there’s a bathroom downstairs,
pass the photographs from
the 1980’s of the pub
when it used to be fun I guess
there’s a stall in the bathroom,
big enough for us four
I can be of use to them,
their casual masculinity
Chapped Lip Waitress comes
I beg
she says
“no, you can’t switch out your reuben and soup for 3 boys and their 20 minutes.”
Filip Fufezan is an actor and poet based in Vancouver, BC. Filip garners inspiration from beauty, people and yearning. When writing, he hopes to reveal uncomfortable truths and also his heart.