Somewhere

Somewhere we are all thick and full of happy hugs, an airport arrival gate inside the chest. Stop! Drop your bags, friend, drop the hate, and drop that old lady behind you. Send her falling, flailing into our waiting arms. We'll squeeze her, but we won't get fresh, no 1960's Marrakesh, also without the bugs. There will be plenty of fresh back at the Home, old-fashioned charms, backrubs...at intervals with rest. In this air-conditioned space, we'll embrace her, kiss her face, and best mind her brittle bones. She's probably cold. She'll make old lady tones, and cackle, "Careful sonny," and give you a glare and give us a hard candy to share. It's sunny here. It was cloudy there.

We will, however, get fresh with you, maybe grab your ass. We'll grab your ass. It's been a while since we seen your ass and grabbed it as a treat. We'll embarrass you in front of strangers, share our body heat, but you know you crave that thickness, you know you love when we spread that joy. It elevates a man to boy. It's the meat. You like the meat. We all inside, though try to hide, really like the meat.
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