bind down your breasts strap this on I’ll dress you
up like Freddie Mercury—-in hot pants

and a cute glue-on mustache why make-do
with rum sodomy and the lash? romance

dictates that we’ll both look fabulous in
all that we wear romance states that we can

that we will doggy-style all night skin sin
and up against the wall so what began

as a lark playing dolls ended like this
all my heroes are sixteen and pregnant

slowly until you’re all the way in deep
then pull let the tip of your strap-on kiss

the O of my ass crying “shan’t won’t can’t”
crying like you’re the first to make me weep