Film Strip

We've been iso lated from the gils
to leam our bodies. Our desks harder
than our hairless asses. They shudder
beneath us when Mr. Giffey fingers

the 16mm reel. He mumbles directions
to himself, orders Danny S. to pull
down the white screen. We swell
into concentration as grainy scenes

flicker past our heads. The projector's
clatter suro unds us like criminals:
narrated cross-section of the testicles,
the animated penis a cruel reminder

of our fathers. Strange men we've seen
thro ugh cracked doors. Their nude
bodies a revelation, a portrait of manhood
larger than anything we could imagine.