And this is how you wear a sock
over your head: stretch
& cotton-sweat, lips
coy as petals,
whetted then struck
by a barbarous tugging—
smell of grass,
of cinnamon,
of aftershave still on scuttling
hand. I live in denim musk,
a clam unshelled and
flowering
in classroom, lockerroom, bathroom stall—
I live to enthrall and be enthralled.
I live like most things: a burgeoning,
then pink-shrink & loll.

__with_some_great_friends___by_A_T_I_S

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