yr nipples (unrated)

yr nipples (unrated)

yr nipples shaving their legs without
wearing underpants in front of an open
window overlooking a frisky bakery
while serenaded by the immodest blur
of downtown traffic

my mouth describing in accurately filthy detail
the last time it went down on you, how your
under-bits tasted like butter rum flavored
Life Savors, comparing the short coils of hair stuck
between its teeth to edible poetry & glorious vines

yr nipples put down the razor before demanding
politely in french to be mounted, my mouth obeys
accurately without translating, the crack/faded
Wallpaper thrusting its fists into the air as if
we were rock stars

Bret Michael groupies stare in awe and take notes
regarding our unique choice of unusual positions
lighters flick themselves into tiny handles of wild fire

in our honor, our graphically athletic coupling causing
the lyrics to every Motley Crue song, even the ones
about blatantly banging strippers at strip clubs

to stop goofing around on their motorcycles
for a couple of minutes and blush

 
(from my book Dusk Hearts Dawn aka Package Gigantis in The Deep Waffle Palace of Love)