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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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