adult content

Sex is the stupidest secret
we try to keep from the whole wide world
of everyone who knows,

because there are children in it. We must
keep them from finding out where
children come from.

Children are the key to the whole thing.
Not our own, necessarily - others'
work just as well. As long as there are
children
to think of! We have our excuse to protect
and preserve the dignity of the process
from being examined.

It's a grunting, slippery, damp
and laughing, ridiculous process,
an embarrassingly awkward
fumbling push to excruciating joy,
in a helpless and united struggling
against and for and against and for
the moment and its ending.

And sometimes it's awful! At least,
a mistake - you blundered it! That's not
how! Can't even look at each other now
without laughing. Maybe you should -
it might be amazing to admit

the ridiculous.

Other times
it's the sweet,
sweaty core of life
itself so amazing and beyond expectation ever
- but then, when you're done, lying there
glowing,
pulse slowing, panting
to deep breaths to relax, and
stretching into and along each other,
limbs thrown over absently
in a sliding and finding and settling clutch

- surely
it's even more
embarrassing, that
this ridiculous process

could be worth so much.

What does it say about you? About us?

We can't let all that be openly
acknowledged and known. Oh, everybody knows,
but as long as we have children - the excuse
they provide, to pretend we don't speak
or think much of such things - we can
salvage almost all of our dignity,
really. Imagine if we didn't have

the excuse of a worldful of children
to keep our secrets shameful from.

Children are a conspiracy between adults
to keep from ever having to openly admit
how hilarious much of adult life is. Shhh!
The children must be shielded from this!
Until they've matured enough to grasp
the veil of awe and mystery
we've swathed and swaddled it in,
and deduced from that: it's serious!
And treat it as such. Respect the veil
and leave it in place to be judged

grown up.

Imagine if people, to be grown-up,
didn't agree to all that. Picture people
picturing us wanting and doing all these
undignified things - enterings and clenches
and pervasions and cries - or worse:
us not. Especially don't let that
come up. Because we have to.

It's our shameful duty:

The adult content of our lives.

Whether in practice it's great or good
or awful doesn't matter. It's really much better
for everyone, to agree
let's leave this undiscussed.
Only spoken of
in giggling whispers,
when we've looked around
to make sure it's clear. Only just
us here - no children to overhear,
and giggle and whisper at things
they can't understand to treat seriously.
Only this way, we're safe with how serious
sex is. So serious it makes us look ridiculous,
by comparison.

We have to keep the whole thing
shushed, dismissed, deferred - "Don't ask.
When you're older you'll understand,"

No you won't. You'll just grow up, like us
and agree

We must protect and
preserve our dignity

from the children. We

who know full well
they know better than we
how funny all this looks, and is, and

ought to be.