They tighten up. Just a little. The

One day they hold you in the

Knowing something.

Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you

Young men sharp as mustard.

Going someplace.

Air disappears,

Years old藏书网 and starving for them.

Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,

Breasts of a young girl,

Your body has slammed shut. Forever.

Watch behind the curtains

Their shoulders high like the

Jacket tails slapping over

The sway of curtains, men walk.

More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a

First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.

Soft into your defenselessness. A little

That runs downwww.99lib.net their legs. Staining their shoes.

Were the last raw egg in the world. Then

As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.

Those behinds,

Going somewhere.

Your mind. There, just beyon九九藏书d

Men.

Smile that slides around the fear. When the

No keys exist.

When the earth rights itself again,

See them. Men are always

Under my window, they would pauses,

Stand and watch.

Maybe.

Then the windo九九藏书w draws full upon

It is your juice

Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.

And taste tries to return to the tongue,

When I was young, I used to

But this time, I will simply

They knew I was there. Fifteen