you can rock on in
the orifice reception line
your genitalia covered
in any type of nuance
while cowboy haiku
rides into your horizon
with pink coral lips
we must believe
in pandora's cogset
zeus' toeclip
and nisus' chainring
you can conjure up
intimate exploits from
your college years
like some big tour de fance
in your underpants
there is a party
in the pantry
plates are whirling on a stick
and ed sullivan has his arms akimbo
while the dish makes eyes at the knife
the candle stick maker finds ways to satisfy
tell me again why
there silverware on the wall
and why are you not spinning
in romantic intrigue
under the dinette table
like a rolling pin
making pie