OUTSIDE THE BOX by Daniel Davis

I spent years feeling “outside”,  would cry at the thought

That I ought to be someone else, some other sort

Of man, who could fall for a woman, then be,

Everything England expected of me.

I searched hard, and in vain, for some other self,

For a costume that fitted, kept me off the shelf

And its gathering dust, and I may as well say

That the last thing I wanted was to admit I’m gay.

But that old life, it took every chance to remind me,

That inside and outside weren’t living in harmony

The scorn of one would flash-fry  the other,

As I tried to fit in, be a son, friend and brother.

Until finally, one day, a guy kissed my lips,

And as he rested his hands on my trembling hips

That dam of resistance was just swept away

And I finally screamed from the rooftops

“I’m gay!”

Naively, I thought “Yes! The End of my journey!

I’ve found the holy grail of a phrase to define me”

And yet here I am, 45, and old  tears have dried

But nevertheless, I’m now mystified.

Because…

Am I a daddy? An otter? A bear?

Or maybe a fox due to silvery hair?

A top or a bottom, a ‘vers’, or a side?

What if none of the drop down menu applied?

I can’t be a twink, because others decided,

I can’t be a ‘muscle’, biceps are derided

By gym bunnies! Gyms? Somewhere I never go,

So what the hell option do I click on below?

Where’s the one that says “Me! And

It all depends whether,

I’m feeling like cuddling, or dressing in leather

Or maybe I want to be stroked with a feather

Where’s that option below? “

The one that says…

 “Me, I would like to be just who I want to,

But apparently that doesn’t exist in the menu,

And I won’t show up in searches, unless I define

Myself as a category that isn’t quite mine”

So I turn off the screen, after scratching my head

And I go and do something less boring instead

I might be missing the chance of the nicest of cocks

But I can’t help myself, I’m just

Outside the box.