It was a regular night
Trying out a new bar
And something new here
Not like the others are;
There were dancers now
And under the new law
They were naked and I
Could not believe when I saw.

It was dark in that bar
That magical night
But I swear I saw some
Flashing colored lights.
Later the dancer said
There was just a baby spot
But that is not what
My greedy eye caught.

I saw rainbows and then
The moonbeams started.
My enthusiasm and acceptance
Was completely wholehearted.
Nothing like that evening
Had ever happened before
And it was just going to be
Impossible to ignore.

A naive boy from Missouri,
A small city kind of hick
I was told the big city would
Harm me, make me sick.
Well, kinfolk if this is sickness
Then pour me another shot
Because life back home was sad
And this most certainly is not!

The music was throbbing
And parts of me were too.
This experience of experiencing
Was absolutely new.
I felt it was a turning point
In my formerly humdrum life
And the sexuality in this place
Could be sawed up with a knife.

The audience and the dancers
Were here to have **** fun
And the evening’s entertainment
Had only just begun.
I watched guys putting dollars
Into the dancer’s hand.
After all he wore nothing,
Not even a jockstrap band.

That evening I left there
A bunch of dollars gone
And I vowed to return there
Very often from now on.
Later my favorite dancer
Move in with me for a while.
It has been forty years now
And thinking of then, I smile.

'twas a long hot summer day
sticky air without a breeze
concrete burning my bare feet
cicadas screaming in the trees

a triggered memory
smelling honeysuckle scent,
the way he looked at me
remembering what he meant

when I was sixteen
with his mischievous grin
and a squint in his eye
he said, I hope you know how to swim

in his old pick up truck
as we rolled the windows down
he drove us to this place
in the woods outside of town

off road, through a pasture
to a watering hole, he found
guaranteed to cool me off
from spring fed water underground

sweet talking me naked
still not sure how he did it
a memory now sacred
my first time skinny dippin'

At certain intensely
solitary hours,
when the journey
to the center of the self
brings awareness to a level,
where  duality is intolerable,
my bold **** self
with nothing to hide,
haunts the other:
the one merely dressed to ****,
challenging time and again,
for a wrestling match
--a fight to the finish.

child moans mute
plight pools
brewed
strife

grey days dank
split robes
seared
****

time plots sighs
mourns lost
trust
life

dreams weep joy
stroke scenes
once
viewed

Finding that balance between what feels good and what you need is harder than picking out an outfit in the morning.
Unless those outfits are all pretty slutty.
Then it's about the same,
the main difference being there's no real good solution.
Just a bad idea,
and a worse idea.
A low cut dress with no bra
Or a ruler width mini skirt over a thong.

I have always been a fan of extremes
so, I guess, between what I want
And what I need.

I'd wear the same outfit every day until it ripped,
got lost
or didn't fit me anymore.

And then I wouldn't wear anything.