Warning: explicit content, including drug references and sexual situations.


© Jane Bled 2017


Confetti snow

Puffing smoke between

Lines of blow

Lighter than the feather coat

You put on layaway

(Good thing Nero

Could afford it

Without slot-raping

Your piggy bank)


Turning the screw

Stiff cornsilk grew

A swan’s plumes slipped through

Your messy up-do

And you know you’re cute


He’s familiar with

Your secret passageways

Even as you fly away

Straight into the farside

Cruise at a deadened pace

Of bullet-grey sky-rise

You will return

You will unlearn

How to resist a snake charmer

How to disarm your weak armor


Gigi’s got his hooks in you

Like the music you

Can’t get out of your head

He grips your boy-slender hips

Until he needs a double fist

To force-feed the tear-drip

That crybaby shit

Makes him tick

When you’re turning the tricks

Giving them the pink slip


Fingers move

Swiftly bruise

A reminder

He owns you(r)

Fallen mind

Pain guides the flightless

Back to ground zero

And you’re no one’s gay hero

Except when you’re rescuing Nero

From a fate far worse than

Midlife pecker unrest

But gristle’s hard to digest

When you have a delicate


Exacerbated by

Political pollution

Peer-pressured into

A stimulant solution


In your easy smile

I searched for a friend

Who didn’t wish to be found

Inside a half-empty room

Holed up in a sound-proofed booth

Walls plastered in puke

Reading verse-by-verse versions of

“Once upon a truth…”


Lust-letters left in seedy spurts

Dreams of all you never were

Burned to the core

Cash in a drawer

They unload the score

Always take more

Than they leave

Then a slap on each cheek

Lacking reprieve

Less love to bereave


You work it commando

Steal the spotlight solo

Go-go dancing alone


My tip is a poem

I’d write more

But I’m broke



Rainbow color Background-B © Yusaku Takeda | File ID: 500834 | Dreamstime Stock Photos

For you, Keith: the only Mr. Gigi’s I ever met in person. I remember the first time I watched you dance. My former best friend had told me all about your smooth moves. She was so into you, even though she usually preferred women. As soon as I saw you dance, I was in awe. I had such a crush!

But when Ex & I went up to you after the show, to compliment your skills, you started talking, and…that voice was not what I expected (to say the least). And you weren’t particularly fascinating, conversation-wise. Also, your eyes were deadlights (thank you for inventing that noun, Stephen King). Something about your demeanor made me sad, Mr. Gigi’s.

Nevertheless, I’ll always remember you with fondness in my heart and a wet spot in my underwear. You worked that Janet Jackson song like nobody’s business. To this day I relive your sexy bump ‘n’ grind when “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” sneaks into my shuffle list.

Ten years or more have passed since I saw you. I hope you’ve moved on from waiting tables at IHOP and have run away to be a highfalutin burlesque dancer in Vegas or maybe a real estate agent. Or whatever your queer little heart desires. Props for your slow smile and sick moves. That pulse-pounding was good for my health! Thank you for making my heart beat a little faster.

Much <3, Best-Mr.-Gigi’s-Ever,



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  1. Wonderfully crafted

    Liked by 1 person

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About Jane Bled

Jane bled out.


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