It was odd: taking you to high school prom
though I was in college. That dress: ruffles
galore. You had licked cum from off my palm
moments before but in one of the lulls
on the dance floor while Wham!’s Careless Whisper
dropped I felt scandalous. Rites of Passage,
indeed: with acid from an eye-dropper,
with wine, with pot. Dried cum caked your cleavage
and ass, your fleecy cunt under your dress.
If I must praise anything I shall praise
us: a shy wanton and a sex-starved nerd
and our last night. Neither of us could guess
how soon we’d part: I’d start my Vegas-phase
making porn and you enrolled in Harvard.