a fine nine,
an eye feast,
boy of man,
a man in his
prime boyhood,
a creature-so pretty that
invokes eye smiles,
auto-no-hesitation

mop of hair
even the day
after his haircut,
wise and hungry,
an adult,
a child,
in a fine nine year old
boy body

spout, no,
his child-like wisdom
adult easy steady and sweet,
easy in and easy out,
a long strand of a sensible
sweet spaghetti softly shared smiling

this special child,
no kin of mine,
and my words
can not capture
a sweetness so sane,
so brilliant, I wonder
why to try

yet here is this
wonderful child
on a freezing cold
Orchard Street night,
surrounded by hipsters,
hugging me good night

he does not question,
does not break away,
let's you drink him,
and takes freely
what you want to feel,
a creator,
birthing companionship in gentility

days later you limbs burn
with pleasure of his young arms
kind sweet tea,
the taste mint,
on the tongue of your soul,
the brilliant sanity
of a nine year old boy
who is quietly love-perfect

wonderful to hug
a gift to me
makes me want to live
longer

in that winter garden,
we bite each other,
our Adam's apple
from the tree of knowledge
newly fallen,
each sharing a secret,
mine - you need never fear;
his-  you have done ok

and  await our next rendezvous
to exchange new learnings