poem dedicated to a golden boy who spent all night on his cellphone trawling for sex



hot and fine
and sexy and poor and just arrived
here at three in the morning there you go
trawling for a touch, begging on your cell phone
dialing up numbers so that the tightness in you
can be intruded and the desire in you can be slaked
in you, naked, i see a mirror of myself
don't be ashamed of this desire
don't be ashamed of this need,
this want
this moment where you throw your hands open
and your body back
and give yourself to the desire
if not the fulfillment of the flesh
they will say it is not dignified
it is not christian
it is not american
it is not noble
but lust is democratic--believe it or not
and most of all it is living
and it is human
but lust