THE GOLDEN AGE OF PROMISCUITY

Written by Jeanne Sirotkin

an elderly poet called it that the golden age of promiscuity a little window between “Leave It to Beaver” and AIDS we heard echoes of ourselves everywhere we turned in Technicolor, in day-glo brighter than life a golden age, all that glitters, we thought it was brighter than life we glowed and spun until our hearts beat in our throats and nirvana was just out of reach yet close enough its salty breath clogged our pores touch me and it felt so good touch you and the possibilities expanded out and out and out beyond our bodies, our homes, beyond sunrise or sunset oh wanton age – easily come and so easily it goes the golden age a tickticktick no one noticed the ticking winding up, winding down the window merely a crack in a door opened for a moment until the wind blew it shut.