- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Baby
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Boy had skills and barely moved. Beautiful cock. Catholic boys and their dick halos and high pitched ah-ahs when they present. I bought it. Them arms. Big. Sailor man stuff. Tattoos with meaning for him. Ugh. But what I liked best was the middle. Muscle and pudge. All Aries traits- like entitlement and closed-mindedness; the baby of the zodiac always pissing his pants. No worries some momma cleans it up with his and her tongue. That blue. Utility pants and a soft touch. Energy. The way he cast a line was exquisite. I faked fishing just to stare. My worm died a slow death; thread through and through on the hook and drowned at the very top of the lake.
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