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.