look,

look at all those hairs growing so close together
darker than skin and straight up attention
cool wind does make their follicle pucker

a razor edge has its muscled way with them
shorn to soft shoulders
littered as a beach, smelling ripe and sweet, a peach

there is mystique in simplicity spinning out of control
a cherub’s pirouette
inseparable as joint shadows, dove tailed Siamese

our landscape spills over the side of shiny arithmetic
sitting cross legged, edges cutting, sharp
the gentle fall of pubic hairs, a sin to propel

see your groin, hear your pleasant pamper
we have a whole sun to blind us
we spend the afternoon marinating one another - privately

downy and fluffed, famous guests explore
the spread of skin lighter than your lawn
tightly clipped and manicured perfect part, perfect stroke,

perfect means to meet and swallow shaved whole
feed me vicious numbers,
choke me with short black shoes