A strawberry road
runs down a body
of silk-flesh and milk,

doesn’t want to stop touching.

And elbows of pasta grime will
keep grinding on the counter tops
til you clean up your mess.
Carbohydrates and spinach will
help your immune system,
I know how weak it (you) is (are).

What can I say?
I was intoxicated by a perfume
of alcohol and pink feather boa dreams.
Sent them through the cleaver line
to successfully bind,
and I’ve got one helluva product, I do.

Tears of sheer embarrassment sting,
don’t they?
But hyperactive snot running down
only causes confusion and disgust.

Frenzied is right!
Because only my hands can help me now!
But my hands were sinful,
so boil the sin off!
I’LL DEAL WITH THE
PAIN.

No, really I will. Graciously,
and not so humbly,
I will deal with the pain.
I will scream and shout,
but never say “stop,”
never say my safe word,
“listen.”

Shaving my legs,
a knack into my skin
is a symbol of your impatience
and a symbol of my willingness
to jump and roll over
at the drop of your top hat.