We all know of one

A rusty old train trestle

Or a highway,  maybe an old street

A bridge,  going from ridge to ridge

Underneath,

The secret place where as young boys we would meet

Having adventures,  climbing and playing

And telling stories that could not be beat

One day,  imagine what would cross my mind

When a stack of old 70`s porno mag`s we did find

Showing private parts of every kind

The other boys,  testing what side of the bridge I stand on

Asked me,  when I look at these pictures,  what do I see?

I had to keep it a secret,  but it is all beautiful to me

Images of our nude bodies is a work of art

Equally interesting to me, right from the very start

And I believe my curiosity was shared by the other boys

About these private things,  they are not going to make much noise

But we all played on both sides of the bridge

Before conforming to our prospective ridge

As for me,  I am often caught up in the middle

Making my emotional condition quite brittle

When you think of me out here be very kind

And,  I ask you to keep an open mind

Before you call me names,  or think I am queer

You also have played out here,  in the middle,  that is clear

When you thought your secret was hidden

You said and did all those things that were forbidden

Under the Bridge

 

By JD. Bardo