Gilmore wrote:
I first met Michael in a bathhouse in Greece. I was nine. He was gentle with strong, manly hands. He made shadow puppets on the wall. Then he showed me what takin it to the streets REALLY means. The night swirled on and on with scantly clad unshaven grecian pigs. I think I saw OJ. I know I saw GOD. He was singing Ya Mo Be there. We played for hours till he finally sang me to sleep. What was a nine-year-old doing in a greek house of sin? Never you mind that children, don't worry your pretty little heads.
I cannot recall what became of him by morning, I awoke nude in a dog kennel. Sore and violated, I faced the new day with 9 years of manhood swinging in the wind.........
That story always makes me moist...........
This story haunts me to the very depths of my soul!!!!! I am not jealous, please do not get me wrong; for I have never had His sweet, warbling voice summoning the most horrible chills up my very BEING....
TRUE, though I have never felt THOSE HANDS (the tops of which would only be covered in fine, salt-and-pepper hairs, much like the rest of his body, I would imagine) dancing on my body, making a wonderful choreography of shame and LUST, getting me closer to GOD.... I can only imagine you were indeed changed.
But this story takes me there, to a place I'll never be. You have been touched.
Let us all drink in the images.