small forest

small forest The small forest or the woods by the white road made of crushed sea-shells, was a place of enchantment Squirrels played here and had no fear of lone dreamers stumbling over oak roots. I used to walk there when cows had been milked, fed and the mucking out was done, fresh strew strewn in stalls, and the barn had contented animals I could do so many things in the forest, be an Indian or take out my pocket phonographic book, the milkmaid gave me and masturbated. especially drawn to pictures of cunnilingus women seemed to enjoy this form of sex, I was horrified when told this was not a manly act, ye the pleasured faces stayed on my mind. A year later, I drove to the forest it was a private estate high walls and posh villas, but the squirrels had gone I laughed out laud The good people in the villas will never know my secrets here, where I dedicated and trained for a hearty sex life to come. An edited version of my book: The Collected Work, of Poetry, Vignettes, Humor and Political Statements