Whocares if some guy wants to play with them?" I thought they were jerks,a bit. They didn't want to play football with me any more, but theywanted to ...ook at my chest. But I didn't care. We hung out. Some guy orother always had a bottle of something or some ciggies he'd nicked offhis parents and we fooled around and had a lot of laughs. At parties Iwas always outrageous, stripping off and dancing around. And we sort ofegged each other on. They knew I'd do almost anything if they dared me.One of. The sounds we release as skin slaps against skin are the animals in us no longer dormant, our nature at its most primal and wanting. A series of thunderclaps rage in the distance, skyward explosions matching the erratic racing of our hearts. Those violent bursts are like us, sudden and inevitable, pressures that have to flex and contract and scream.You cry out in something like a lost language, something close to words and so private. I'm allowed to hear the incantations but never their full. More

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