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Ho pais kalos

You weren't to be seen this summer.
Your face is a little less
adolescent than before,
but those flowing locks
and that red bandanna
haven't disappeared, I see.
I whisper softly to myself
ho pai kalos.

Looking closely at your lips
tells me you've had your first
drag of a cigarette,
the way your eyes
now look at girls your age
tells me something is now lost.
I whisper softly to myself
ho pais kalos.

You've taken to sitting around
with some friends on walls
or riding motorbikes;
you no longer play football
with your hairless chest
glistening with sweat.
I whisper softly to myself
ho pais kalos.

No longer a jejune, young man
you've grown up, Adonis
No more Laches on the shard
of the ancient Athenian
drinking cup, a gift
to handsome boys, inscribed
the boy beautiful -
ho pais kalos.

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