After lust comes meditationAfter love, hallucinationNot all of us seek the same thingWhen we kneel here, & “that has to beOkay”Like when I fisted X at the mini golfCourse at Mount Sodom campgroundWhich he chose, of course, for its nameThings had already gone bad between usBut we built a fire & talked for hoursSmoking so many cigarettes because we were talkingOf spirits & then we fucked in my car & both passedOut with our pants around our legs like closeted menIn another era. When we woke up & saw what we had doneI freaked out. I can’t live like this, I panted, pulling my jeans back upFrom my boots. It was fun—tainted by a whiff of real deathWhat was bad between us had turned leftwardBurrowed deep into a secret place where love livedDespite the many lies we were telling each other& ourselves on that day alone we had reachedA different kind of honesty.It would withstand mutual betrayal.Fury is very lustfulA body concealing its heart’s desireHas a certain textureA tang or an edge if you willThat the openhearted cannot match& when exactly does the deceitfulHeart open? At climax.