it is easy
to write about
the time you ate mushrooms
with a slight brown boy
who had such long fingers
and who thanked you for being soft
when you thanked him for the morning coffee -
and it is much,
much easier
spelling out letters
forming words
describing
the vision you saw
of yourself in the eyes
of your santa fe lover -
and it easy
to say
we had each other for one night
and wasn't it lovely
wasn't it lovely -
and it is even easier
to confess in dirty,
dirty words
how a beautiful Israeli boy
ate your pussy three times
in the shrouded alley
during a particularly brutal thunderstorm
feasting on your cunt
until both pairs of your lips
were raw -
than it is to
drag ink across paper
and admit to those
looking over your shoulder
that you like getting fucked
because you are so,
so fucked.
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