The Iceman Cometh


I slip the slut reluctant,


antlers velvet on the morn;


I bugged a bitch for seven years


cross lucent seas of porn —


(Jack-Frosted mists adorn).


Her jelly shines androgynous


in daylight's handsome bras


where red drops dip their saucy toes


from mammoth glands' umbras ...


Stand back! The bitch undoes.


Remove the socks that wring her breasts


and bend her to the porch;


rump quarters melt like butterscotch —


What grabs your champagne torch?


That you should be so fort'!


The prize my baby stiffs to torque


pries What's up? up her skirts;


"No hands," she cries, "you're not the first!"


Nitsy news sinks in in spurts.


(limpid eyes so deep it hurts).


Imperfect yawns the memory


that sucks me to my youth


as beauty sparks the fuse


igniting slam to lightning sleuth:


Sleek wet betides the truth!