He wasn’t a dream, that was the problem. One couldn’t wake up and have him only to remember, no longer near. We first met, by me answering a door, at 409 House, in the Haight-Ashbury. The blue sky framed him, and all that was possible for me to do was just sand there looking astonished, had never seen some one so beautiful before, or for that matter, since. Then he opened his mouth and asked if my best friend was there, and like a guide brought him inside and into my life, at least for awhile, and then intermittently through the years.
He was taller than me, at 5'1", most people are. Six feet, may be more, lanky, long brown shoulder length hair, and moving with a grace that thought only a dancer could have. Had not yet moved to lust, was still in awe, that such really walked the earth. All to soon it was time for me to leave, head back home, across the Golden Gate Bridge, and return home and to college.
My time in the Haight varied, days off college with nothing to do, Friday nights, Sunday evenings, so could work on Saturday and Sunday. We saw each other intermittently, along with other mutual friends. Watched him go through various women, including a couple that were good friends of mine. For all that he lacked, women were not among the missing.
Having a friend who was tolerant, friendly, and fun to get stoned with, had its pluses. Enough, that took him, his girl at the moment, my best friend, Jim, with me on a trip across county, from San Francisco to Albany New York. He got off in Albuquerque, Jim in North Carolina, and continued my trip up to New York. Visited family, and went back through Albuquerque, where Jim and he, Jacob, were.
We celebrated seeing each other again, by going to the Mount Sandia, and getting stoned. It was a crazy time, the ride down from the mountain top was bizarre, with enough stories in it, to be its own story, such were the 60’s. By the time we got back to where they were staying, we all decided to go back to SF, and off we went. First thing out of the car, in SF, and what happens, Jacob gets hit up for a cigarette, which he gives, from, in his words, a fag, so San Francisco.
College continued, moved out of home. Jacob, Jim, and Annie,from the trip, with a few others lived with me,for awhile. He was in my life, but not of it, very much hands off, other than a kiss hello or goodbye. Which was something that just did without thinking, to everyone, till he pointed it out one day.
Later on, he moved in, with his lady. Had a boyfriend, at the beginning, but not for long. Couldn’t give proper attention where it was due, instead of where was simply drawn, sigh. Jacob did make amends. he came into my room late one night. The kisses started, completely unexpectedly, slow, soft, sweet, it may have been the most erotic few hours in my life. The person who came to me, was not the same one who went from me.
This repeated on and off over the next two to three decades. Over the last two or three years we finally lost touch. One can’t make someone into something they are not, but miss him just the same. As the lyric goes, you can’t always get what you want, but life has more than given me what I needed, and still does. Thank the stars.