In the bars boys sip neon coloured cocktails and talk prick.
We’ve been looking at yours at the urinals and in the park.
Anyplace you strip to the waist, we’re there, remembering
the exact line of your cut groin, the exact weight and hang
of your balls in your sweatpants. Every time you undress
we go further. Someday, somehow you’ll wake in our beds.
This is a threat. There’ll be three of us bruising your skin
with kisses. Three mouths to promise again and again
not to tell. Your girlfriends should worry and stop
patronising our bars like we care for their lip-
service. You are not safe. We will commit acts of sex
as a lesson. Lay back. Smoke. One of us has to relax.
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