Sub Zeroed in Dom Nation
The dog days of summer
were barking up the wrong trees.
Even my Fortress of Solitude
was melting into your average
She drove the ice cream truck
on the upper west side
of Hell's Kitchen and tried
to give me the cold shoulder
However, the irony was a tube topic
of discussion without any boobs
and was quickly lost upon me
---went right over my head.
Regardless, we were bitches in heat
I puddled as I peddled, chasing
her down the street on my cycle
---narrowly avoided being poodled,
bichoned, and schnauzered.
The invitation to enter inside of her
moveable feast was an unexpected
surprise; I wasn't accustomed to
meals on wheels, let alone desserts.
My graham cracker cone was soggy
from thoughts of being tongued
I salivated at the delicious prospect
of partaking in her perfumed parfait.
She wanted me to submit to a split
while preparing the banana insertion
kept chilled in her frigid box.
Training wheels were peeled away.
Glancing over my shoulder apprehensively,
I waffled, but was immediately seized
by her icy grip and sudden temperature
My muffed cries of FUCK! Fuck! fuck!
trailed off into throbbing blindness
at the brain freez---
Written by MaryWalker
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