“When I was a child, I spake as a child….but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (Corinthians 13:11)
Growing up my sister had a doll
that wet itself. It had miniscule
holes, one between its legs, one inside
its tiny puckered mouth. It might have cried,
but maybe not, one function was enough.
Back then if it were up to me I’d have
it cough and barf and shit—secretions I’d concoct
with my chemistry set. My sister would be shocked
of course and report me, hoping I’d get scolded,
ordered to play some other game. Unschooled
and prepubescent, I hadn’t learned the uses
of those other arcane and mystifying juices
that would come later, unsummoned, at the wrong
time, coagulating, leaving an expanding spot
on pants and shorts that would reveal thoughts
(too formless to call desires). Caught in the act,
still no inkling what flowed from older girls.
Those primed pissing dolls just the beginning.