POPCORN ANYONE? by Ben Rasnic

Love has finally come to me
in the form of a deluxe box
of hot buttered popcorn
with an appropriate douche
of salt.

All of the ancient sex goddesses
from my fantasies have materialized
in creamy white morsels curiously sculpted
into the soft mounds
of corseted breasts.

It is intermission of the film classic
“The Blue Angel”
and my tongue maneuvers itself
inside the box as if it were making love
to Miss Marlene Dietrich.

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