PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

That day, he wore a sleeveless tee---unseen, of

course beneath the bulky, long-sleeve sweater

(with turtleneck), and black dress slacks (imported

from Greece) with sheer white socks (he had taken off

his shoes (eagerly).

Inhibitions and hesitations just fell

away when, as you entered the library from

the west corridor entrance, he gestured to

you to join him.  Your gaze was fixed on his socks---

as he had hoped.

So you sat down at the table of his choice:

its placement---one side, Poetry's shelves; and the

other, Astronomy's.  Here was inherent  

privacy, a screen against intrusive desk

clerks' judgmental stares.

"Taste my mouth," he invites you, his voice

little more than a whisper (but, after all,

this is supposed to be a controlled Study

Hall).  "Inhale the fragrance, taste the flavor

"of my feet:  kiss them."

What he offers you, pleasures you:  he knows that,

this varsity senior athlete, who has ringed

your finger, and loves you so that you are no

more the most unpopular kid in high school---

Love, transformative.

Starward-Led