At One Time I Thought

I wanted to marry a millionairess nymphomaniac
who owned a bar.

You probably thought
I would act like a drunken sailor
and always be
dripping in sweaty sex.

Nymphomaniac millionairesses
are at least tight with money.

The allowance kept me close to home
where the bed
was always drenched
with a strange combination
of sweet and sour
low-cal liquids.

Fortunately I had read
33 ways to please a woman
(couldn’t find the extended
hardback edition)
giving rest
to one appendage
at a time.

Life since
has been a special hell
of orgasms, hangovers
and vitamin C pick-me-ups.

During a rare escape
I was complaining to a friend
who couldn’t help
drooling on my shoes.

He was married to a
poor
prudish
teetotaler.

I went back home,
made a drink,
sighed
and got naked

Wishes are overrated