o

        ats

        As me. ino men, old men.

        Young men sard.

        See them. Men are always

        Going somewhere.

        teen

        Years old and starving for them.

        Under my hey would pauses,

        the

        Breasts of a young girl,

        Jacket tails slapping over

        those behinds,

        Men.

        One day the

        Palms of tle, as if you

        ere t rahen

        tig a little. the

        First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.

        Soft into your defenselessness. A little

        More. t begins. renc a

        Smile t slides around the

        Air disappears,

        Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,

        Like tcctered.

        It is your juice

        t runs doaining their shoes.

        s itself again,

        And taste tries to return to tongue,

        Your body . Forever.

        No keys exist.

        the window draws full upon

        Your mind. t beyond

        tains, men walk.

        Knohing.

        Going someplace.

        But time, I will simply

        Stand and ch.

        Maybe.
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