I went to Canada years ago
and sat on the roof of a college dormitory
smoking Cuban cigars
after passing the bar exam.

It was Summer and the
you don't like
me touching you thing
had started.

I was frantic.

We went back down to the room
after a few drinks
to lay on single beds
in the heat,

and a few hours of worrying later,
I finally fell asleep.

Years hence,
it hit me
how not wanting my hands and lips and cock
wasn't just a phase
you'd work through.

After that,
I didn't need to worry
any more.

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