Dorian Does Dock-Road

              after Oscar Wilde

This tawny twink ruffles feathers. Peacocking
Around town, he parts a pair of precocious pink
Lips, rose-petal mouth speaking: “Ah!”
Turning heads, treading the cobblestone trail is Dorian—
Immortalized ingenue, forever fair, enchanted by Basil’s blessed brush
And smooth as a supple, sopping peach.

Dorian punctuates his peach
With every careless clip-clop caress of the pavement, peacocking
            Around the cobblestone streets, startling every bloke he brushes
            Against, causing calamity, causing blush-pink
            To explode, extend across their cheeks and they think “Oh, Dorian ... ”
            Dorian does not deign it desirable to look back, leaving them sighing: “Ah!”

High society hoops its heart around him, Dorian says: “Ah!”
And dips a dapper hand into a dish of ripe peaches.
Dorian dares to indulge in the fruits—“Dorian!”
A call, causing a head of crisp curls to turn. Dorian peacocking—
Dorian flushed with flutes of fragrant wine, rosé pink—
Dorian finds the feeble heart of Basil in his bare hands, Basil with his brush.

             Dorian sways toward bashful Basil with his blessed brush
             He holds tender Basil in his brainless hands: “Ah—”
             Dorian says, dipping pink cheek to pale hands, pressing pink
             Lips against Basil’s hand, and Basil, averting eyes from the presented peach
             Preferring to avoid his affections, leaving his peacocking
             Darling to the people, alone in his adoration for young Adonis-Dorian.

Time-old tale of a twink between two daddies, Dorian
Seduces both big boys, Lord Henry and Basil, with his brush.
Dorian, inclined to decline expectations of him, cruises the bathhouse,
pee-cocking—Perhaps inappropriate exclamations of: “Ahhhh!”
Dorian with his perfect-ripe, pretty tender-fleshed peach,
Lord Henry hurries to hold him, bashful Basil paints his cheeks pink.

             Victorian bimbo boy bats lashes on painted pink
             Cheeks. Opulent orifice parts and Dorian
             Sighs, a sign of narcissistic sickness spreading on the peach
             Pink canvas—Basil with his blessed brush
             Attuning a tune-up to the pearly portrait, he says: “Ah?”
             To his work, and pretty soon, picture-perfect again is his pretty peacock.

Lord Henry fingering his peach, Basil fondling his brush
Brainless-blonde Dorian, flushing and pink
—A Menage-a-trois of melodramatic peacocks, and all of them at once say: “Ah!”