By turns wistful, by turns puckish, David Bergman’s tribute to gay adult film of yesteryear is a fun twist on the language of nostalgia.
—
Viewing Vintage Porn
They’ve been young for so very long
you’d think they’d be completed faded
like the film stock used back then.
But there they are, lounging by the pool,
jogging down the tree-lined street,
loitering innocently in the backs
of truck stops, their smiles the only thing
they wear that won’t be taken off.
In those days, everything was in softer focus
and brighter colors. The gold of their hair
was almost bankable, their lips so red
they must have been recently transfused.
Even erection had none of the granite
composure of current pornography.
Their bodies were gently sloped pastures,
without any of today’s hash-tag abs.
Things were simpler, more reliable.
The pizza boy would always deliver.
Any moment he’d be at the door, his box
generously in hand, ready to provide
the toppings (no anchovies please).
he’d lick from your fingers. And he knew
to accept whatever he got, happy
enough to be at your service.
Back then the models had ampler asses.
They were named Biff and Doug and Jerry.
They had no futures, no tattoos, no inhibitions.
And when they came, they came forever.
***
David Bergman has published on The Good Men Project before. Read his Sonnet (Unrhymed).
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Photo by fiftiesbeefcake /Flickr