The queries of doubt

You’ll never know, you know,
if the people that made love
and your body from theirs looked
early on at men and women as men and women.
Neither your friends who
undressed in front of you.
Thought that really just happens
when it rises up the new breeze
they blew down? Was a cough, right,
what they said it was when
perhaps instead they gasped?
You were easy and laughed
as a child ought, but children turn
adult soon and growing like fire
they must choose to endorse
notions like that, and perhaps

as you, near to nakedness, napped
by your friend he stroked the hair
budding from your navel? You’ll know
if you ask them, if they confess,
and that’s the problem, that’s the test,
you’ll know you know you know.


Really hate this piece’s tone.


~ by Jeremy on January 10, 2011.

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