Hot Rod

What a scream you were.

Tom Of Finland all the way.

Straight out of the Castro.

Your real name was Michael

When I first met you

But you soon announced

Yourself as

‘Rod’.

You signed your paintings ‘Rod’.

You couldn’t be more pornographic...

But thank God

You were!

You wore your leather vest unbuttoned

Displaying your scary hairy

Carved chest

With the tiniest Daisey Duke shorts ever

On a man

Often in leather or denim

With jackboots and white jock socks

Over thick sculpted legs

All burly, all man.

You might as well have been

Walking around naked

Except I’m sure that

The allure of it all

Turned you on.

You would talk

In your uber gay lisp

Through buck teeth

Protruding from under the classic

1970’s gay S&M porno Chevron moustache

That would have me rolling

With laughter inside

As you would describe

The events that led up

To your latest painting.

I always imagined those teeth would hurt!

A true biker boy toy!

I am sure you were a party.

I couldn’t imagine the crazy shit that went down with you

But I’d have to say it was pretty obvious

With your demented disco demeanor.

‘Rod’...

Your paintings were actually very good.

They were of cocks

And balls

Of leatherboys

And their erect steel bodies

In a state of grasping tumult

Done in electric muscle flesh colors

Reds and blues and purples.

You had all of the colors of Miami Beach

Key West and San Francisco

Loudly emblazoned in them as well.

A lot of them were self portraits

And I loved the way that you exagerated

Your obvious characteristics

Like your teeth and moustache

Your belts and harnesses

The leather biker cap that sat

On top of your wiry, curly, black hair.

The size of your hard on.

The paintings were very fast

And graphic.

There was a lot of spirit and stamina

And wayward talent

Layered in there

Which I am sure

Was fueled by poppers

Xtasy, coke and whatever else would keep you up all night

Wide eyed in the clubs or leather bars

Or at home painting orgies

Of pierced scrotums, pricks and nipples...

Your paintings just got better

In the time that I knew you

Although to talk to you about them

It was difficult for me to be serious.

You were an inspirational comedy to me

But I could dig your painting

And the honest encouragement that I gave you

Just made your dick get harder

In the tight restraint of your

Denim Daisy Dukes.