Or…?

This is a translation of my short story «Eller…?» to english, and I have given it the title Or…?

OR…?

I go into the pub. It’s been a while since I last was here. Inside the door I stop, throws a glance around me, and look at those who are in the room. It is half full in the room, but I do not se any familiar or interesting people. My eyes do not stop at anyone.

Calmly I go to the bar, while I snap up my jacket. I’m cold, for there is cold weather outside, and my moustache is full of rime. I stroke a hand over it. Yes, now I want a beer. I slip myself up on one of the empty bar stools and order one.

That is when I see him. He sits beyond me. Strange I did not notice him before? He is quite young, younger than myself, and certainly not more than a few years more than twenty. I look closely at him. He talks to some girls standing next to him.

I pay the bartender, taking a sip of beer. Then it dawns on me that he only talks to them! This strikes me as a physical shock of the body, which starts on the face and spreads down towards the genital area. He’s like that! He’s gay! I pick for breath, and looked over my shoulder, afraid that someone noticed my reaction.

I turn a little on the stool so that I can see more unnoticed on him. He is holding one of his hand around his beer with thin fingers. His little finger is pointing out from the others, when he lifts the glass and takes a sip. His face is oval and lips sensual and sensitive. He smiles, but his eyes are restless, and wander from one to the other girls standing around him.

He is sitting facing me, legs together, supporting one arm on the bar. I’ll let my eyes glide along the thighs up to the crotch. Thighs clamps down on the edge of the stool, forming two perfect curves that meet at …

I raise my eyes quickly, and meet his eyes. They sink into me, catch me, and the pressure in the body, in the abdomen, increase. Again I snap for my breath. I have to swallow. Quickly I turn, grab my beer, and takes a big gulp. I look at him again. He talks to the girls now, and do not look at me. I turn myself on the stool, because I still feel the pressure in my body.

Suddenly, I lift my glass, swallows the last remnant of beer, get up and leave the bar. I’m not like that! My heart is hammering merciless in my chest. Or…?

 

Om toreluga (Tore L. Gabrielsen)

Hei, jeg skriver dikt og mye annet. her er et av diktene jeg har skrevet. Ikke alle diktene har samme tema, for temaene varierer svært mye. *** En homo det er jeg * En homo det er jeg, Er du mannen for meg, Du er ganske ung, Du er ikke for tung, * Du smiler til meg, Og jeg smiler til deg, Meg vil du gjerne ha, Du gjør meg så gla, * Jeg stryker ditt lyse hår, Jeg føler meg sår, Hvem er du min venn, Vil du komme til mitt hjem, * Jeg savner å ha deg nær, Jeg har deg så kjær, Du vil fylle mitt hjerte, Du vil fjerne min smerte, * Du vil gjøre meg hel, Du vil berge min sjel, Du er mitt store savn, Du vil lede meg i havn. Vennlig hilsen Tore L. Gabrielsen
Dette innlegget ble publisert i Novelle, skeiv og merket med , , , , , , , , , . Bokmerk permalenken.

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