The lump

At age five, I didn't know what boys looked like, 'down there'
Decided that you could tell boys and girls by the clothes they wore
but thought each person made up their minds as to what they wanted to be as adults
Had myself pegged to be a man, but that's beside the point
The point is, the kid next door got away with terrible things, on account of my not knowing
You see, I saw him naked, one day, in his bedroom window
I was bringing in the milk from the letterbox, glanced up, and saw there, his glorious self
spread out like Leonardo's man, arm and leg to each corner of the glass
Cheshire grin on his cheeky face, stoked with delivering what he thought was a simple shock
I, however, had met Mr Martin from up the road, and it had been carefully explained to me
that one mustn't be unkind to Mr Martin, as he was dying
that the lump on his face was what was killing him
Well, when I saw a lump such as that gracing the neighbouring kid's pelvis, my heart went out to him
That misshapen thing was proof positive this kid was also in death's grip
From that day on, then, when he threw stones as was his wont, taunted me with names, tripped me up
I'd let it go
He got away with shocking behaviour for years
Curious thing, though ... you see, we met in the pub as adults, he and I
We got to drinking and such and, the drink convincing me that he was most delicious, I took him home
I got to find out that actually, it was a misshapen little thing
So in the end, I'm okay that I never retaliated. The dude really did deserve a break, after all