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Michael H

“May I crack your back?”

You had me at crack.

Feelings: hypnotic.

And homoerotic.

Wrap yourself around me

And I’ll gasp and whimper.

Joint fluids are freed.

Now more the limber!

I can’t help myself.

I feel dumb and startled.

Your hands massage upon me.

I loudly hum and gargle.

Later, I’ll try your scotch.

Two fingers? How about three?

We’ll play harp and guitar.

As I hear you close to me.

We may not be jedis.

But, you’re an archangel, Mike.

I’m a saint, and I can see

your wingless, flightless, fight.

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