it's not weird

i relish your residue

sink my face in forgotten fabrics

lean ever lower for your toots

i slide my tongue in pits unguarded

treat myself to your tannins

grovel for your growls

i am a mental museum for the shape of your hands

and a banquet of the ways you call out "baby"

i am the imprint of your soft

and the beneficiary of your hard

someday

i can't wait to marry you

and someday

when the mood moods right

i can't wait to call you daddy while i

man the hose