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I went to Camp Birchwood when I was twelve years old and although I was a little uncomfortable around Strangers it was strange that I was comfortable.
During the summer I had two girlfriends.
The first was a black haired girl.
I don’t remember her name.
She was as cute as a black pearl plucked
From an oyster.
I remember the second girls name—Ricky.
She was a cute blond who was the daughter of the camp director.
We didn’t do much because I didn’t know much.
But I kissed each one of them
And collected their love jewels.
They were young.
They were costume.
I learned what I was which was a man and distinctly different from the modern homosexuals and Transgenders.
I think I was pretty normal in an “Iron John” sort of way. I don’t know why modern society insists on playing with sexuality when it is a gender illusion.
A man can’t decide that he has a vagina when all he has is a missing penis. His vagina is artificial and doesn’t have its period.