The first man that I ever did lie beneath looked like Waylon Jennings; hardened by experience and softened by knowledge, an artist and a musician. I made him draw a penis because I could not understand how a simple snip without a stitch could be a circumcision. He was a teacher of feelings and I drank it in in big gulps of thirst made all the more desperate by the stretch of catholic desert I had crossed. The water he offered was sweet and satisfying, and thinking hard, I can still taste it today.
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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