my body went electric on me
in 1980 -- all that basement party
french-kissing and adam ant's
ambiguous dressing made my face
break out; i found the logistics
of making out distressing, soft
flesh pressing hard against my
shy insistent parts, the pounding
of our craven hearts, craving more,
surrounded by low art and high
hopes, the groping pleasures of
dark places i'd never felt before.
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