...He Spilled Baked Beans and Other Things...

It was over lunch he spilled baked beans
onto my lap and with Arrogance laughed;
told me without hesitation how his jeans
were so tight it held hostage Manly shaft.

I brought Sexy back, with smirk to seduce.
He said without wait, began hum, danced
as his side dish dripped down leg, all juice.
My orbs widened as ten fingers advanced.

You Are All Man, he beckoned me to say
what was on my Mind, agree with Adonis
exterior that Women would fight and pay;
one night with him, send them into abyss.

So sure of himself, I agreed he walked on
water and parted seas also made Men cry;
jealous their Women would cover a yawn
in the bedroom until they think: Sexy Guy.

He had it going on, muscles bulging raw
talent from head to feet; pure testosterone
oozing out of every orifice, blah blah blah;
hands bring orgasmic moans in G zone.

You are the Doctor, hold the cure for Love.
His eyes lit up like Christmas Tree lights,
wanted more, mention Gynecologist glove;
he was the specialist who made Hot nights.

I knew it stroked him like a pet, he stood
atop pedestal, pointed at Ladies looking.
John Travolta wink, wave to Call Me-Good.
You show the Women what's been cooking

but what I really wanted to say as he sang
was how his Ego forced Angels to descend,
save all the fertile Women from a Pootie Tang
Wannabe who tempted me to slap my Friend

into the present, flush his big head in a toilet
of bile but lightning would strike me here dead
in my seat yet that's a risk worth taking to get
every Woman's nightmare off the street: I said

under my breath as his Confidence heated air.
I wanted to burst all bubbles, shake him fast
and reiterate how his halitosis needed prayer
whenever mouth opened to brag, gas passed.

Love him to death, hinted in the past that sex
wasn't on everybody's Mind, just be himself.
He refused to listen before, all hands on decks.
In reality, nobody Normal desired a horny elf.

It took a Priest who walked by to restrain me,
a Nun that nodded with angelic eyes to hold
back the urge in my brain that wanted to pee
the truth, leave advice which may appear cold.

I blurted out, none of my Friends want to date

a one minute Man who arrives too early or late.
In sixty seconds you climax thoughts of Fate
when a belch brings Death to all after you ate.
If I had my way, your self-absorbed self I'd bait
over the side of a Pirate ship, watch as a great
white shark plays patty cake or tries to mate
with you between screams for- Mommy! I await
the moment your butt bends, see ox desecrate
everything Holy because I'm tired of the plate
filled with cow dung you dish, Damn straight...

as bird poop falls from sky, I take the obvious sign.

Better to keep it quiet, let shivers go up-down spine;
Mr. Sexy Back has his limits, even with the Divine.