Only a real man
takes it like he thirsts.
So taste me, like you know
just how much I'm worth:
every last lifetime you would have tried to obscure
if I had said yes to violating my own values, and principles,
and sense of what must endure —
you, and I, always doing right by
whoever we treasure.
Or, in your case,
whoever you claim to:
I wasn't so sure
when you showed up on my doorstep, asking for tarot and pure,
unadulterated friendship —
Do you know which part of my body is best at detecting bullshit?
Well, if you said my
brown, sun-soaked Malayan
tits, then
you have been reading enough Rex Shelley, especially A River of Roses,
where one of my ancestors gets the full treatment and list
of just how brown, and tawny like a lion
all of Europe that came to our shores once bore witness
to, every single day; as Shelly further notes,
it was quite hard thereafter to make the sin of sodomy go away.
Let me be clear to you; at least in this day and age,
It is absolutely a sin, if you take it that way.
It is a sin to deny who you really are, and how much you secretly pray
for deliverance, from not an unkind deity who will one day slay
you for disobedience,
but from your cowardice. Your own fear. Your insouciance.
You remember when we cuddled.
You remember how real the tears you sensed
from me were. I have no idea, again,
what was going on on your end,
but it is of no mere trifling substance.
Because I still love you.
I still wait for the new dance.
I'll let you dive in first, this time:
Just make sure that you are really giving yourself, and me,
a second, authentic, honest-to-god chance.
If that's all clear, then
come back in and take a look.
I promise you'll get a good, long glance
at the most unique and valuable kind of friendship in the world:
two gay brown boys, both attached, and so deeply comfortable
in body, mind, heart and soul.
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