Under Age Sex Poem by James McLain

it is not very hard to understand the why of it.
though the why grows wet with it.
and being wet, your panties cling to those leaves
of reason he left off, unreasoned with.
or he the tree you squeeze until he does, smiling
your accomplishments openly, their trembling still
within your why, as now blind he does.
either way remember this and being one or the other
you are too young,
though you burn, to make a well informed consensual.
other than that you are never too young to go too prison
being perfectly well and able to reason
as that of the same adult whom said you were not, what.
too stupid too use your hand instead of your head.
or use the moon to milk more than cows, whom are
more less than not, making milk while standing asleep
bovine that they are yet still on their feet, here as we are.
but do not tease him as is your want, wants such as that
are every bit as strong as the tree inside that you feel.
and rocking back on to it, like the wave at the sea, always
in motion, tension it builds as Newton predicted, and the
friction gives way to energy, splenetic and seeds sprout
and grow and then lactation and your belly becomes, familial.
just own up too it, be a man, be a woman, when your panties
are wet, let him know and you he, should trust as well.
because if he does and you will, you don't have to make
the great big messes, they make those speeches about of it.