A letter

Sexual patterns that converge on human evolution – human growth – human imagination.  This early morning, these thoughts fill my mind.  Reading and re-living memories of the old – thought you once had – things and actions you once thought about.  Sexual description emits from me as if I were only a little boy with questions, with only my imagination for experience.

I remember being young – less than 5 – being with my baby-sitter.  My parents must have gone to dinner,  must have gone somewhere, and we were alone.  I was a quiet child, but thoughtful – only quiet in person – not silent – what people call now days interested, relaxed, imagining, a little boy that thought life as a kid was better than anything on earth.  I knew nothing of sex – but maybe I felt an emotion of interaction.  We played games and watched TV, went outside and did everything common to a boy my age.  Once I do remember how fascinated I was by this orange non-sticky tape my dad had.  I remember her being asked to me up – even though it was not known why.  I didn’t know why.

These imaginations of questions and wonder of the live of us that we don’t know – things we don’t understand.  I remember being 10 dreaming of shadowed bodies under my sheets or my bed – the twisting, the tangling of bodies in love – the touch so sensitive – it is still the wish for something more – and not knowing what the thing is exactly.  All the dreams of sex, and the sex in my dreams, it is only something that happens to everyone,  but they ignore it. This is confusion of life, the one bind.