When I found out they were humans

I never wanted to rape girls that got close enough to love,
unlike middle-school crushes and models’ airbrushes
that dreams are made of,
if I know you, I wouldn’t want to know you–biblically, that is:
imagining you bouncing and wincing upon my waist
if I tasted your dreams–your heart,
nothing else would tempt my tongue?
well, at least anytime soon.

The quiet rape

the stranger
the victim
the dark alley
a weapon
a struggle for her
the blood
the hospital
the report

yeah, right. . . .

the friend
the victim
the home
no weapon
no struggle for her
no blood
no hospital
no report