Finally, my energy spent, I collapsed against him, brushing my face against his massive chest. I felt Dave surround me with his strong arms. He held me, not saying a word. I was sobbing with shame, but Dave gently cupped my chin in his hand, and brought my face up to meet his. With his other hand, he brushed the hair out of my eyes and wiped away my tears. Then, looking deep into my eyes and my soul he gently caressed my face, stroking my eyebrows, and bringing his long index finger to rest on the tip of my nose.

"I'm going to leave now, Bub," he said softly. "I want you to lie down and close your eyes. Don't watch me drive off."

Then, with great tenderness, and great strength, Dave picked me up and laid me on my bed. But before releasing me, he suddenly held me tight. At that instant, my seed of love matured and burst forth. I clung to him with all of my thirteen-year-old strength. For a few precious seconds we were one. Suddenly, Dave released himself. And walked out of my room, out of my life.

I lie here now, in the middle of the night, beside Joe, full of my love for him. But I will always treasure my memory of Dave, and the seed of love he blossomed forth within me, then, when I was thirteen.

The Unnamed

It is a pact, an agreement,

so the beads of sweat clinging like dew

to the dry grasses of your thighs

will not fool me. Your knowing of what will happen-your insides eructing-

Is what will only heat those legs.

And what will I feel? For the moment, you, you with your big, hard limbs excreting their lust that rolls down hairs, you with your broad chest idolatry will stave with alloyed bands.

There will be no sound; only the annoying creak of some metal-hard fibres uncoiling. There will be no light, except that frozen long ago in eyes baled by lashes.

You will go,

and if we meet again, and if you feel so disposed to place the face,

you will not remember. Worst of all,

neither will I; yet

I will see other dew and in vain

try to recall others I cannot name.

J. T. Montgomery-Hand

17