I was a boy kissing a boy. Our fingers slipped into the starched belt loops of each other’s trousers. Our thumbs glided over the close-cut hair on the back of each other’s heads. We grabbed suspenders and shirt collars and the buttons on undershirts like the only way to hold each other together was to tear each other to pieces. We kissed between rivers of blue hyacinths and gold daffodils. We kissed in the tide of the sound, still in our clothes, and the ocean dusted its reflected stars onto our skin. We carried salt and the moon on our bodies, sprinkling light and sea onto Gatsby’s sheets.
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