Sex's Butter

awkward girls delivering their spoken thoughts like hand written love notes perfumed hopes cherished brightly one of a hundred that stand at the edge of reality and in the near perfect unison of dropping lovely invitations to the magazine advertisements man who is supposed to sweep them off their feet the manly man who has button down eyes and a wrinkle-free shirt to him sex's butter is romance her temperature dog haunts her lonely steps with a eager wag of his ratty tail his pleasant eye wagers that she will return him for the deposit someday its for the girl who has everything and a box of candy too its not in what you have but its measured by how much you reject sex's butter tastes salty sweet she has a sidewinder viper gently cradled in her arms calls it the child of her destiny sex's butter is her bed and breakfast an empty conversation like a small hole in my mind spilling its useless phrases to be swallowed whole in the tepid sea of her eye her hollow laughter two tables away suddenly as it comes it limply dies away alarmist by nature she crafts a tale of woe to suit her mind but that tale is an empty eyed charter boat fish that lay barren and objectified on her dinner plate basted in sex's butter with a twelve inch whip...