as if it was yesterday

before
kennedy
died,
i was
born blue.
abused,
as a twin,
feet first
from
the womb.
anointed
a free
spirit,
with a
cock,
and balls,
unzipped.
i shared
him,
his hand,
his lips,
for free.
then to
the moon,
and after
apartheid,
it was,
10 bucks
to feel.
20 to suck.
50
for all
the way in.
more
if he
did me.
i was
“on sale”
for quaaludes,
and weed.
it was
the clash,
when i
found him,
belly up,
buck naked.
gloriously
erect.
the veins
pumping.
how could
i look
away?
not touch it,
taste it,
fuck it.
then keith
got me sober,
and died
of aids.
we carried on.
i kissed
his ass,
he kissed
mine.
thomas merton,
taught me
contemplation.
jesus
was queer.
the towers
crashed.
we marched,
as sober
soldiers,
bayonets
drawn.
pissing on
the red state,
the ridiculous.
to a desert,
of jism cacti.
i jacked
love
from his fruit.
emotionally
mine,
my scarlet
bride.
i am
his garden,
where he
plants
his seed.
the masturbating
strangers,
make our
wine.
the cream,
of my
poem,
is my
history.

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