His Love Was Like Tacos
He made love
like he made tacos
with his pants shelled down
above his ankles, a little jar strapped
to the side of his ass meant to hold tips in,
and a glob of store bought guacamole
non-competently served on the side
like green lube
His love was like tacos
and his tacos were below average looking
and the lettuce smelled like yesterday’s ashtrays
and the shredded cheese smelled like pictures
of his old college roommates crotch
and the hot sauce was no longer interested
in being his emergency contact
and the tomatoes never deserved her
because her love was a highly-evolved-canvassed photo
which accurately channeled the magic
of stuff like horror movies and Selma Hayek dance moves
in From Dusk Till Dawn
and owned its own gummy ring bar
and shit
but his love was like tacos and his tacos had
an ass that had ass hair that looked like the bottom of a taco
wearing a couple of cheap toupees
his tacos were hairy and balding
all at the same time
like everything’s hairy and balding
at times maybe
but that doesn’t side-shuck the fact
that his love was like tacos
and his tacos weren’t worthy
his tacos dodged the draft
at Armageddon
his tacos
sucked
at everything
his tacos were lame
Multiverse Johnson 