Inside The Moviehouse

inside the movie house
my lips are drying because it is so
cold in here, but with you
i get myself moistened up
with your constant flow
of salive from your
mouth to my mouth
tongue to tongue
i close my eyes to get
the picture of you sitting
on my lap my extra large sausage
rising up from its ruins
you rain on my valley
wetting my grass and
my cliffs have waterfalls
flowing steadily
there is this forest fire
and there are no firemen coming....

i know the title of the movie
but i cannot really remember the details
of the story..

and i don't blame you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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