BALLOONS AND BLACK LICORICE
© Mimi Wolske, March 2014
All Rights Reserved
As
years passed, the less he understood what
happened
to his best friend, Trevor, that day.
He
had become a turbulent helot
in sweat-filled
lust...without his repartee.
He watched
Trevor transform and parading
As a
sex toy for his Black Licorice;
In
and out like some drum major wielding
his
baton wildly so he'd accomplish
All
she demanded for those balloons
And a
taste of her sweet Black Licorice.
On an
overcast day, while he communes,
It
happens...it was straight from some Irish
War
epic. Trevor unzipped; she bent over.
With
grace and ferocity, she vacuumed
All
parts of him; as a victimizer,
She
devoured...poor Trevor was consumed.
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