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Curiosity.
Exploring Innocence,
In all innocence.
A journey into manhood.

At three, sweet Linda’s flower bloomed for me
in my driveway under our old maple tree
where pedestrians, neighbours, family could see.

In our innocence- as we explored – they did not exist
for us, as we, in our innocence – you show me, I will show you
is what time has shown me, within memories hazy mist,

of where we went, what we touched, that’s all we could do.
At eight, the sister of friends became, for us, the willing toy
under their veranda – doctor the game – boy oh boy !

Her soft beauty, the velvety lips of her petals- oh joy !
Time has come for this young boy to give up, stop being coy.
At eleven, innocence gets up, stands up, finds direction,

as friends stand by, watch this fool place an erection
into the sweet flower of Margret, for a second, planting no seed.
For that, of this fool, would not be cool, besides there was no need.

At fourteen, innocence lost for ever, never again, to be seen
as rape, so to speak, became the order of the day, she wasn’t mean.
But that was the road that took me into the world of men.

In the back seat of a forty seven chevy, up front my friend
who, under no circumstances, was going to let me slip out,
no matter how hard I tried, fought, pleading, would shout.

Out of the back window, I could not climb – of that, no doubt –
for it only rolled down to a clearance of  four or five inches.
By then, sweet Flow, had gotten in between me and my britches.

Time to grow up, take my place among men, set the pace
that was to become the man behind, the once innocent face.
Poor Flow, how was she to know ?, that she unleashed these forces

upon herself and woman kind, that would become my forte,
that from that fateful day forward, for me, intercourse’s
would become making love, my all, my life, filled my mind,

(( with the all beauty of woman kind
and for me, that was the only way
to learn the secrets, to get in deep

touch her soul, feel her spirit
and forever, no matter what, stay
friends throughout the years ))

and no matter where, when, morning, afternoon, night,
car field, truck, bed poor Flow, she wanted to take flight,
would holler uncle, want to rest, get out of my sight.

In innocence lost - a monster created

I became like an open soda fountain, filling every glass
that came my way, – every shape, size, age – I had no class
always accepting – couldn’t say no – every beautiful piece of ass.

Every place was a good place !!!, be it along railroad tracks,
river banks, beaches, parking lots, forest floors, big mac’s,
in or on cars, trucks, beds, floors, hotel rooms, houses an apartment,

back allies, farmer’s fields, gravel pits, swimming holes, whatever lent
an atmosphere to make love, or, sometimes just have sex, was used
the bring two into one, for a moment in time, bodies, minds fused,

even at a hundred miles an hour down the Q E, down highway One.
There were but a couple of  women who wanted to stop me
and there was no situation that would prevent me, - you see,

it was for the foreplay, it was for the giving, it was for the fun,
it was one of the best ways to get close, to feel, to be a part
of another human being, even if for an hour, just to start

a friendship that would sometimes go on for a dozen
hours, for a climax was not the means to an end, the idea chosen,
it was the passion of intimacy that kept the time frozen.

The real monster

Many a time there was more than one, there were two,
sisters, sometimes friends one after the other to do
my best for – in bed with one, the other on the floor,
in an arm chair, on a chesterfield, and sadly, out the door.

Death has come to the monster !!!

Now, the dream has gone, I hardly get to feel any more
and wonder ?, if the monster in me, they still keep in store,
keep in their memory’s hoard, and on days, let it see the light
that I once shown upon their life, filled mine before taking flight .

B. J. “A” 2
March 22nd 2003
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