Porn Dreams

I sometimes picture myself in their place,
but the result always comes out funny.
Instead of the beautiful blond pumping away
at his clone, there is me, a bumbling stick figure,
almost comical in the way I grunt and groan,
while the bent-over lover twice my size,
and with hands that can snap my head off easy,
begs for more, yeah baby, give me more.
So with all my strength I pummel him,
but in the end it’s like there’s some mistake,
as if I’m in a puzzle where you try to spot
a table with a missing leg, or an ear
too big to be anywhere near human.
In this one, I am what’s wrong of course,
because even in my imagination I hate to see
myself naked among glorious bodies,
men with arms bulging like sacks full of rice,
men with smiles that put the sun to shame.
So even in my fantasy I adjust myself
the way you’d adjust the color on your t.v. screen.
With every dream I get a little taller, till I can
dunk a basketball without leaving the ground.
With every dream, my body fills out,
my skin gets smoother, my dick grows so big
that no mouth can get around it.
Before you know it, they all fall at my feet,
the Americans with their tree-like torsos,
the Romanians with their lazy smiles,
the Brazilians with their intense eyes,
for I’ve become the perfect brown god,
so beautiful I can almost fall in love with myself.

(I noticed that all of my poems in this blog are so cheerless, so I decided to post this one. Hope it makes you guys smile. :))