Is it normal that after making love, deeply at the rootedness of us There is a parade of all the faces of all the

men I have loved like this. There they sail like a regatta each mast each white billowing beauty Secured in my memory the loves of my life and each one was real Not a dream or a mistake not some imaginary friend I made up for company Or to make myself feel better about the little spaces that will always need fill ing. I see the combination of the things I loved in them in you The freckled skin, the blue eyes, the deep voice resonating in my Groin and shivering down my thighs. I feel your hands as I felt each Of their hands electric in the moon tided light and oh what bliss this Your kiss, your stroked cries, your primal-ness and love combined Into a cacophony of community and yes, this is sight, this light here Where I see the ghosts of love come to witness that after all this time I have wound up in a world where loving them and you is all too Right.

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