08
Jun
13

the fire escape (and escaping)

fire escapethankfully, i’ve never had to use a fire escape either because of a fire or some other emergency–it’s not that i haven’t been on one, i have, but only to make out with a man in greenwich village in july of 1976–which was all sorts of wonderful for a variety of reasons: his dago t, his hairy shoulders, the rickety nature of the iron stairway, the smell of old brick and iron, his veiny hands holding my neck as we tongue-dueled, my arms around his muscular back, the heat rising up from the alleyway below, the smell of garbage, the sense of danger and illicitness, and the feeling that i was getting away with something which is the most significant thing i remember about that moment in my life.

it’s not that i haven’t had to escape from danger in my life; there was the rapid city flood of 1972, the collapse of a snow fort when i was 8 and i was buried under 5 or 6′ of snow, but other than that i’ve led a life that’s not been tinged with the fear of imminent death. when i see a fire escape then, i don’t see a way out, but a way into (escaping.)


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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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