the gamey (dreamy) variety

surrendered

The sphincters and para-sphincters [***]; no good asking why he had not stuck it; he hadn’t and that was… kept on being… that.

What it was was sexual weakness, he snorted. You just couldn’t hang in there, could you, when the bed-life wound down.

Not to spoil the morning. It was a pristine day: zippity doo-da. The seven-o’clock sun streaked the liveoaks orange.

(Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)

Written in the 70s, 70s-14a redacted. (Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)