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The conflict
runs through my entire adult life.
I am a man who treasures
relationships. Nothing feeds
me more than daily companionship 
colored with affection
intimacy
sexuality
intellectual stimulation.
I prefer
being in love to
falling in love.
I'm ashamed to play the fool
waking up next to
a pair of donkey ears.
Your partner eventually
grows donkey ears, and inevitably
you learn to love them.
But the scales of fresh
infatuation
fall so fast they
slice my toes and make me hurl.
I'd rather be steady.
Sacrifice doesn't scare me one bit.
To me sacrifice means
greater reward.
The chaos of being on the loose
permanently prowling
exhausts
and enervates me. It
beats my child
so needy
of a solid household and a dry
pillow.
Hand in hand with my obeisance
to Hestia is a wild hare.
Someone who hears the drum
of Dionysus and is there in a hoofbeat. 
I have libido in abundance.
There's plenty
of saliva and thrusting
to go around.
This is one sacrifice I won't take to
extremes.
I am a man. I was
born with a cock that
stiffens in the presence of other men
or even the thought
an image
on paper or in the mind.
I like to kiss and in my
dotage I'm discovering
a taste for the butt-rut but
I love to
suck. My pleasure receptors fill my
mouth and I am ready to
taste. I have tasted hundreds
a thousand or more
and I am not
done. Because I
love it, my passion
gives me talent to please with
my hands
my face
my body
my sucker.
These passions compete.
Isn't this the history
of men? Of course we
want the comforts of
home. And of course we want as
much sex as possible.
Not every man acts
on either desire.
Not every straight
man finds a
home.
Not every homo practices
the art of promiscuity.
I struggle
to do both and what comes
with the kit
is guilt. To follow
the blood of my loins
is to betray my partner.
Isn't it written in
stone? I know it's
supposed to be wrong
but it doesn't feel
wrong.
-- Don Shewey
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