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Between the blades of grass
On a sun-rich day
Where flowers are done blooming
And the hare hop free in spades
There is an open meadow
Where memories are made
And magic tends to happen
In early June, late May
Your undiminishable sensual distinguishableness
Makes my gayness sway all the way
Makes me melt into the magnetically
Mesmerizing melody of your aesthetic poetic majesticness
I revel in your effortless ebullient eminency
Your seamless streaming supremeness

With hands joined, I adore your inexorable immortal glory
Your far-out macho charmingness
How your rememberable refreshing flex
Connects me with your radiant, triumphant essence
I follow your superlative shimmering work of art
Such a fantastically eye-catching masterpiece
That dazzles and flabbergasts my totality

I dream of your impassioned matchless dapperness
I long for your carnal cosmic hot sauce
Your imperial terms of endearment
I burn for your delightable ignitable powerfulness
Your tastefully embraceable enchantingness and manliness
You are a full-blown strong addiction that haunts my existence
More than fiction, I am drunk on your essential sinuous rhythm
REMEMBRANCES
Hut, 2, 3, 4. Hut, 2, 3, 4. I was 4-and-a-half years old. Dad lay on his bed reading books as he gave me marching orders. I marched to his cadence through rooms and hallways upstairs. I was Dad's good, little boy for the first 22 years of my life. I was 23 when I found out Mom had had an affair--Dad actually had walked into the room and saw his naked wife in the arms of a naked man--when I was 4-and-a-half. Blew Dad away for the rest of his life. That's when Dad began--I believe, unconsciously--to live out his dreams vicariously through his only son, me--not a good idea. I remember all too well how an ominous, dark, toxic cloud enveloped all 5 of us (I had 2 sisters). I enjoyed going to grade school more than being at home. I had a number of friends during those years:  Bruce, Virginia (my first girlfriend), Ralph, another Bruce. Dad had made himself rich, growing up dirt-poor, working assiduously, becoming wealthy. Mom, on the other hand, came from one of the most socially prominent and wealthiest families in Kansas. The sad news was she was extremely depressed virtually her entire life. The good news for me was Maggie, our maid and my surrogate mother, who made me breakfast every morning--two poached eggs, grits, and two pieces of wholewheat toast. Maggie washed my ***** clothes, spanked me when I needed a spanking, hugged me with her two big, black arms when I needed to be loved, brought me a sandwich and a bottle of Squirt when I was sick in bed. God bless Maggie! In junior high, I was elected co-captain of the football team and the basketball team, and president of the student council. I was elected president of our sophomore class at Topeka High by my 800 classmates. But Dad had dreams for me, so he sent me to Andover, considered with Exeter, Eton, and Harrow the best prep schools in the world. I chose to matriculate at Columbia over Yale, because spending four more years at the latter would have been like spending four more years at Andover, which I had not liked. I loved Columbia. I kid from Kansas, I found living in and exploring New York City for four years made me a de facto Citizen of the World despite the fact that I would wind up living life after college in a number of different cities. Dad had wanted me to become a lawyer, then get a MBA, then work on Wall Street, make millions (now billions), so Dad never forgave me for dropping out of law school my first semester. In time, I became a poet and human-rights advocate for the rest of my life. And most importantly, I found my real self.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
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