Titty-fuck and peanut butter.
There's nothing else to say.
The wholesome one is gone for now.
All that's left is pepperonis,
The kind that crack and bleed
In lines of pale blue chalk.
The salt and pepper man is smiling
Holding an empty glass;
They serve here leering on tap.
She comes my way to pour another
But the wholesome one is gone;
I smell her glass and take her drink
And throw it all back up.