The beauty of your feet vivify a plain
pair of white socks beneath the frayed cuffs of your
baggy cargos; and the enlivened socks dance
all over my face, and elsewhere, like Shakespeare's
boy players on stage.
Two young men removed their clothes, except their white
socks, at a meadow's edge. Then, hand in hand, they
entered the meadow walking toward a private
place where---with well soiled socks---they discovered all
Love's intimacies.
Naked in my bed, his thick mane of curls soft
on my pillow, his smile was playful but in
his eyes, relief revealed itself; relief that
he would be loved according to his body's
adolescent needs . . . .
Naked, except for white socks, and tumescent,
he awaits his new boyfriend's arrival; this
is quite a day for him, co-captain of the
varsity football team; his boyfriend---the school's
most disliked bookworm.
Naked and engorged, he scattered rose petals
all over the floor and the bed. Then he put
a pair of white socks on---appropriate for
all that beauty---and his boyfriend for whom he
had prepared it all.
J-Called