Hypocrite.
I’ve started to brush up
against strangers,
in the shops or getting off the train.
Shoulder to shoulder,
so gently they’d hardly feel me.
Just to check I still exist.
That I haven’t become
an apparition.
Since the last time
I felt real.
I justify it to myself,
as science.
Legitimate enquiry.
But the man who touches me,
from behind, in a queue?
He is depraved, no ethical scientist.
But why?
Maybe he is just concerned
that his cock might be
a ghost as well.