Oh! Poem by RIC BASTASA

We met as two consenting adults in some
Busy, crowded malls, and we offered our true names,
We like each other, we love the way we talk
It was easy, we are two consenting adults and we
Met again somewhere, not in the crowded mall
Not in the busy street, not in the church to pray,
We are lovers, we are two consenting adults,
We are the new lovers, and we know what is the
Secrecy of love its sanctity when we as consenting adults
Met again, and we are naked,
We have embraced ourselves as truths not as lies
In the open
In our openness, we swallowed ourselves in utter openness
We welcome what happened
We said it was wonderful we want to meet again and feel
So wonderful
We have the will, we have the free will, we are free

Then you said something while you were alone and distant
Yes it was wonderful but it was when I lost my senses,
You chided me, you were lost when we did something wonderful
And you said it was something dirty, you have indulged in the
Arms of the wrong person, in the wrong hours, in the wrong places,
You even vomited what wonderful was it that was swallowed

By you as a consenting adult, and I as a consenting adult
I thought it is wonderful and I always
Think it is wonderful, I do not know what dirty is
I was not raised in dirt, I do not know dirt, I am not dirty

Days and days, you reflected upon its wonder, the wonder of what we did and you call me back, you emailed, you texted

You like to meet me again in some crowded malls, in some busy streets we start all over again to trace the maze of amazement again
You offer your true name again, your senses in full you smile
You are a traffic sign blinking the green for go again

The wrong person is here, he is now lost in his senses too,
You called the wrong number, you emailed the wrong mails,
You texted the wrong number, you will be calling the wrong person

That wrong person has gone away, he is the wrong person to your
Thousand eyes and he has no more reason left to stay. He cannot wait for you, the malls are crowded, the streets are busy, and the door of
The house is now closed. And he is now the traffic sign which blinks
The red for stop.

There is no one to be blamed, It is our upbringing that brings

the end.