blame K Silem Mohammad

xvi/xxx: DEAR CUTE-TUSHED, JUBILANT, RESOURCEFUL AND PARADOXICAL HUMAN BEINGS: THIS POEM IS WORSE THAN MARMITE

Ryan sautéed me some fine-ass crepes. (And I've had
me some squirrel, big thumbs downtown to that!)

Sure my family grew up loving on their potato latkes,
Romaine Lettuce, dog bones, reporters and mint condoms,
but birds and pastry get my "stunt soup" all warm.

So after breakfast, let's organize a robin show for the gigolo who
claims aliens made out with his bag of Goldfish and replaced it
with a potato that resembles Cindy Crawford's poodle. After all,

according to Cindy's ginger-powered research of bovines and their humps,
tiramisu is like having an orgasm and saving the whales! Very nice! A decent
pastry is basically a-hotter-than-expected-53-year-old's "cute dog ploy."

Like the famous potato-devirginizng Japanese macaque monkeys,
I lust after popsicle-stained winged ones, the ones who
whisper: He goes all night like a goldfish. Goldfish?
No, a goldfish. Oh. Hey, look at those pretzels! Damn!

When I first met Ryan, his fingers were covered in pretzel cheese (let's hope),
and I didn't know he was a pastry chef until we rode unicorns back to his Huge Tower.
Now I try to keep my entendres doubled, my fries French, my aardvark stylish:
all to summon the raw animal passion of his fry pan.

Ryan's crepes! O, they make even hamsters O. But if he skimps
on butter (or cheats on me) I shall probably axe a doe.



***

Okay, so Kasey's rule was: 1. Every line must contain an animal, a food item, and something to do with sex, with no one thing serving two roles (i.e. a pig can't be both an animal and food). 2. At least twenty lines. 3. It can't be "crazy."

I used the broadest, most referential senses of "animal," "food" and "sex." As, um, you can probably tell. Some hints: people are animals too. And there are a lot of ways to wink in sex.