i think i told you once about an Abbess,
about an abyss, and a boy named Nathaniel.

he's a young expensive boy, too old to be a roman man's
preoccupation, but too young to be mine. a shaggyhaired boy
with tangled glowing amber hair, and brown sand skin. a perfect
155 pounds, a lithe six feet. his arms are only two inches
more muscled than mine, just as wiry-dark.

if i kissed his stomach
i'd have to keep going down
to find roughness there.

he's a story book. i open him up, but i can't
put him down.

he reads shakespeare sometimes, but he's
not from verona. now, dark-eyed puck:

tall tales, ecstacy. white shoes, lsd.
your mouth is edged with rabbit teeth, and
they're searching for a hole to hide beneath.
i've got a blue ribbon in my hair, but i hate this
color, i hate the haze of your mouth, little
hits off something i shouldn't be doing.

you know i did cocaine at a rock show with
men who swaggered and offered me rope in little
red plastic cups, who groaned when i made myself
comfortable with my thighs against their sides.
they knew what to do. they knew where to go.
after them, i should know how to say no.

but you make me mute and goddesslike.
pray to me.

do you believe in ribbons&lace? gods of
a perfect victorian summer, that doll house with
white trim and forbidden corridors with graceless
dried out ad queens, giving service in a corset,
choking life from little girls, imperfect whores, and still
i loved them better than i loved myself.

because i had you to do that for me, because i
had to go for the under dog. because i couldn't love
an in-house celebrity, an artist who'd had his name
on the hearts of bright eyed girls with stupid fixations
they liked your jeans they loved your eyes and
i was tongue tied, no flattery to offer this juvenile boy-god
because you are small-boned and slender like me,
tall and long-limbed like me, and your hair in hot weather is
lighter than your skin, just like mine, my little brother. but that'd
make us sick and twisted. or maybe just me.

i never liked them young because i wanted all the vitality
to belong to me. and three months between us can mean a lot
when i have to talk about the future and you're still caught
in locker bays and a parade of candied freshmen girls.

are you listening, little pocket sized world?
i always try everything once. so this is the one time
i'm trying him twice.