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August Heat

I wanted to sleep with him
In the sweaty, awful
Summer heat

“Tell me, dear boy,
Where do you draw the line
Between being one man’s possession
As opposed to another man’s toy?”
The portrait is still the same

Hot, hot, naked,
Noise of crickets, peepers
Shaking in the trees

I was shivering and scared
In the 2am wet wind
Crying and naked
When I climbed the stairs
In search of some rest.

I went to the bed 
Of my young warrior.
In the darkness,
He heard my fear, my chill
And the end of an era.

He lifted the cover
I climbed under to be
Welcomed and warmed,
Knowing I was now
Spinning my wheels
On black ice.

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