Pinned Down by a Man

Mike ranked a weight-class second of two in the Chalk County junior wrestler's league. Holding a blue ribbon meant you know how it feels to be slammed down on a mat and pinned by the ribs of another man, a young adult barely clad, dizzy with his own new gristle.

The moth, having known nothing til then but wild abandon, submits to druggish capture, is still alive as the contents of its thorax open for a relentless poking into the satiny cardboard backing. Some necessary stun hormone kicks in when the last resort is capitulation.

Blushing shame or exertion is here nor there in a situation where yor being observed by official recorders. The victorious moment that you shared has been photographed and keyboarded into the informational mist. But it's not return via archive for which Mike tenderly yearns.

To be there again with so much to learn, worlds bursting everywhere. To have everything to try, to pretend, to eat. To choose the loveliest of all the denigrations. You shall be roughed up by a buff teen virgin and breathed  upon, weighted down by his chest, and then must undress.