With a Picture of James Baldwin

I knew that during the summer of lost virginities

if I were to allow petals to blossom too unsidedly they would be

snatched, mangled, or torn

So I sat transfixed in front of a screen

His scent drifting in the air above me

His thickness and his voice . . .

I knew that at the end of the summer of lost virginities

I had become a murderer

With endings devoid of salt and dry cocks

And unused hips

His scent drifting in the air above me

His thickness and his voice . . .

And 5 dollars still in my pocket moving in serious moonlight

with a picture of James Baldwin.

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