ben smith | polaroid


There is a polaroid,
With my pants down,
And a fat drained slug
Of a dick
peeling out
from an over bush
of black

It looks
And sunburnt,

Lounging across my leg.

I try to remember that moment
With any kind of certainty
But i struggle.

Im pretty sure
That night,
I came
On my girls bra.

And she wasn’t to happy
About it.

Or the way i asked her to

take a photo of my dick
When its looking big
like this”

I put all the polaroids
In an envelope
Under my grandfathers watch.

Now i think about it,
I remember that night pretty well.

well enough to try and pretend
like i didn’t.

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