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of his eyes on that first hot summer day when girls and young men slip out of their clothes to swim, always looking over their shoulders for tattle-tale school-children. Over the summer, I would take him between boys. I loved to rub my swollen mouth on the tweed of his coat as it hung on a nearby willow. He carried his thumbs outside his fists: because he was sane. He was comfortable with himself. I love you, Walt. Let me gather yr calmness, yr tranquility, yr sanity from you as we run naked through American rivers— We shall think our bodies wonderful or we won’t think of them at all. c. Robin Rule