Gosh, poetry? For Realsies?

With Apologies to Allen Ginsberg

Actinic flare
Tropic seizure, emerald glancing bitch friends slutty boyfriends
Everywhere dancing
Pleasing, to the eye interested in girls kissing boys kissing boys hugging
Sisters from behind looking like lovers, opening mouths and talking
Eye contact
Never making it past the first awkward hell-
I take off my clothes and people draw pictures of me
For money
We want you, both of you, kiss on the stage
In Denmark its totally legal, young people watch all the time, tutored in
The finest of colonial expressions, the caramel and white flesh mixing
Hands on the porch, too-and-fro, leaving behind circular handprints on a father’s lap
Here I come, here I come, here I come no more
Sugar please, too much excitement after that extravaganza
Bonanza
Colours rioting, stampeding, fifty dead
While huge-hatted white coats and beautiful dresses talk about pinkness
And the immaturity of those who won’t embrace it
Slip inside it
Make it slippery and moist with
And I’m there, and here, and everywhere
Hugging people, I’d like them to be more than friends
Less that lovers who make me smile
Feel warm and good
Human contact is a wonderful thing except it always ends in tears and recriminations
It doesn’t have to
Emerald eyes, green with love
Brown with energy
Blue with wisdom
Grey with comprehension
Kissing other eyes other people and we’re dancing, all of us, in a warm naked place where no-one has to be anyone but everyone is
Smiling