[Spring Break, 1972]
Even now, fifty-two years later,
I think of Mattie D---, of his
gently rhythmic hands, his wetted
mouth, and the warm crevice between his
well-shaped and muscular buttocks.
No intrusively homophobic inhibitions or
clodhoppers in state legislatures can
forbid the functional memory of the
exquisitely erotic fantasy inspired by the
blessedly unquestionable reality of the
beauty of gorgeous Mattie D---
(beauty, descended on one side from those
magnificent People, the Cherokee),
Mattie naked and largely engorged,
his nakedness nuanced only by his
fragrant and flavorful dark crew socks.