Classic Poem

When some boys
offer to dance
you can see how innocently
their cocks hang in their pants.
Pendulously, as they say,
connoting
horses, barns, liquor, hay.

some boys open up their shirts
and the beauty almost hurts.

some boys even undress in
rooms cluttered with Dylan on.

Some boys are evil.
They lure boys into deeper statements.
They take showers together,
they eat flowers together
and call each other studs.

Some boys, though, do take to sex like apes and monsters and their fathers.

They get hair-raising erections.
Pools of smegma collect near their beds.
Discarded condoms build up in their backseats
and dead pubic insects fall from their groins into
patches of vaseline.

The meat of rough alleys hangs in their underwear.
The kind of meat you pull out of the pants of muggers.
The meat in its American juice that lays in jeeps and B42s
I mean the meat
of all soldier boys who will bomb the hell out of heaven,
the meat
of all those high school cadets
masturbating in the twilight as though they were landing a 747.