Everything Is Not Sex🤨🍑🍆

OK

Tell that to the palm

of this Person of color's hand

very somewhat measured

furthermore, conveying in its twist

the fingertips of another

Individual of color, the two of them

arms extending vertically

close to the sky, estimating

their range against each other

on a ball court

in Brooklyn, in spring

OK

Spring

Also, when I say spring

I mean honey bee humming close to a-pink-bud-

nearly blasting spring

tantric spring

everybody outside-in-three-

quarter-sleeves-regardless of the-infection

humming close our-tongues

spring So you can't tell me

it's not sex Cause it's not sex

The gamble of this delicacy

so much giving of ourselves

this inside outwardly

open, weak I know sex

at the point when I see it and I see it

all over the place: lips on the areola

of a delicate serve, an arm clench hand somewhere down in

a supermarket rack, digging

for the last jar of garbanzo beans

It's not a ménage à trois

these three men cuddled

in the passenger seat of a moving

van, singing bachata

moving from the hips up

in the window, open

throats open, their entire necks

to the breeze, careless

careless, I tell you, full on

leave So express out loud whatever you will

about transmission

about liquid, skin to skin

about the fundamental things

that make the deed the deed

I don't mind cause it's spring

furthermore, I've seen nothing so close

as this touch actually taken

notwithstanding an end of the world