I wander Victoria’s Secret, flaccid.
That negligee, those naughty thongs,
no longer speak to me
like poetry’s
paint splatters:
Black!
the playful kitten wife.
Red:
mistress, cartoon tiger.
All business, business, business:
Machine-plumped carrots dangle.
Their swaying mocks my
breathing, soothes
my clenching
softly
swaying talks
to me
it whispers
warm
it nuzzles
no, it slithers
into
me, its
vicious
reptilian
CODE
.
I have set my jaw against you.
I will drive you back!
each lusty pixel,
back into the sea,
where focus groups and pheromones
break
and break again as mist
upon my barnacles.