I DECLARE THE GUILTY PARTY INNOCENT

You know those big-eyed lads?

Big hands, big jaws, big shoulders, big eyes.

Most with hard leather shoes

Scuffed from kicking gutters and piles of concrete

Ignoble, angry, pleasant and confused

Cigarette between big tender lips

Those that have been passed down

From the peasants of the middle ages

Just enough stubble on their dimpled chins

And just enough wiry hair on their broad chests

These rough trade lads

In love with their mothers

In fear of their fathers

Sleepy sweaty cocks

Nestled in innocent briefs

And big arses that are held steady

By thighs that were formed

In high school football teams

And fondled by teachers

And cheerleaders

And friends of their sisters

And whores

And men in public toilets

And all the while

Nothing would pass through these lad’s minds

But the pleasant feelings

They feel when with clean briefs and shorts

Resting around ankles atop scuffed boots

And the hand

Goes from beefy thigh

To awaken the lad’s sleepy, tender cock