a pool of French’s mustard,
creamy melted goldenrod,
lively tangs my lover’s
freckled dreamy skin.
we languish past time’s
wide window with paper
cups of ketchup, these crimson
puddles on her white belly
taste tart and sweet
together,
as we sink and swim and thrive,
flow down this menued stream
of brimming weirdly
wondrous flavors,
poke pillowed heads above
grandma’s fabled tablecloth,
wonder when and how will
the real good meal
temptingly begin?
She slowly twists open
the brand new jar of mayo,
spreads it amazingly thin
onto twin peaks of virgin earth
whose tips stand fresh and raw
in twisting winds beyond
these clouds of condiments
and as with a single tongue
and set of ivory teeth
like symbiotic tendrils
we eat and eat and eat,
nude silky skinned gourmands
we lick and chew,
smack and swallow such
gaily colored fluids
lunge into storms of hunger’s
tender wild growling
like crazy druids,
a pair of red white and sunny
yellow lips shine fat and happy in
this plunge delicious
of waning luscious light.
No comments:
Post a Comment