Movie Night, You Win

You kicked the door in
Barbarella from the hard-ass movies
in the 90’s when testosterone  
was dialled to 9000
 
pulled my gun from its holster
I had just enough time to get hard
before you nailed us both to the couch
 
you’ve already ground through the gears
your lust-accelerator pinned to the floor
like it’s in a car chase with fuckers firing
machine guns at it…
 
somehow I’m balls deep in you
my foot still on the brakes
tried to shift into first  
grab your hips  
smile as if you were
ripe for the plundering
 
but I’m the one getting fucked in this scene
it confuses me
flips my script
makes me hard as fucking stone
 
I want to be coy and shit
maybe throw up traps
like in Indiana Jones where
they have to fight to
get what they want
 
you pin my wrists
sink deeper as if your cunt
is jaws and it’s trying to kill me
 
I fold
like origami
lean back and let you
fuck yourself
with me as the prop
 
I watch
viewing a porno
the arch of your back
the strands of your hair
scent of alcohol
and wicked sin
pouring from your pores  
 
you transform into every woman
I’ve ever fucked like mystique
 
claiming what I normally take  
as your own