As a male you’ve a clue as to what can ensue
when you dunk a part
into water whose form is far from being warm…
cold as frozen tarte.

Around it water streams as you’re emitting screams.
And you gasp as it seems that you’ve sat in ice cream.
Just like ice, it is biting; your teeth gnash away;
your junk has nearly departed the upwards way.

You don’t show any girth as cold water you curse
frozen upward dart.
Just a twig, not a spar, most surely not rebar,
your spelunking part.

Water temp’s 45; warm blood barely survives;
take a very quick dive, then get out, warm, and thrive.
As soon as the heat starts, you’ve a thawed meat dart.
Downward moves your junk—you’re done with shrunken part.