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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.