Walter Holland | Poppers and Sweat

(Gone now the papery lives of social columns,

gift wrap for an empty American age:

Peter Allen and Ray Cohen, Steve Rubell

D.V. and Halston — Dynasty on Wednesday nights,

the rich-and-famous sparkling through — the trickle-down

of money, debts, and effervescent dreams —

the Cold War soon to come apart — a rattled saber

on TV — in step with the delirium — all valueless

prosperity)

And so, near the stage

with tambourine, a coked-up goddess shook and twirled —

dizzy with a feverish beat —

in drag and eyed by everyone:

Sylvester of the Seventies

immortality spent by drugs —

pointing to the frenzied crowd

with gold and sequined gloves —

the sweating supplicants

of love below him in their

trance.