The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1999. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

Your tongue is amazing.

Your tongue is a wet
16-wheel big rig
barreling its way down
the highway

Your tongue is a
Mack truck
covered in gelatin
racing to meet
the convoy
downstate
Ten-four good buddy!
HONK-HONK!

When your tongue
attacks my mouth
it comes in not vertically
but horizontally
so flat and wide
it threatens to suffocate me

Your tongue in my mouth
is a website
saying
"CAUTION: Your browser must be this wide
to properly view contents"

Your tongue
is the obelisk
from 2001
and I am Dave Bowman
floating inside it
and whispering
"My God, look at all the beautiful stars"

Your tongue on my cock is amazing.

Each time you put my cock in your mouth
you manage to
wrap your entire tongue
around it
like a big slippery O

My cock in your mouth
is a pig in a blanket
at some shitty-ass diner
on Western Avenue

My cock in your mouth
is a B-movie actor
slowly getting squeezed to death
by a giant anaconda
in some low-budget
straight-to-video
summer blockbuster
destined for the 99 cent bin
at Tower Records
and I would have it no other way.

There's only one problem.

It's a small problem,
a teeny-tiny
itsy-bitsy
wee ol' little problem
but I feel I should mention it.

You don't leave my cock in your mouth long enough.

Oh, it's great when it's in there,
don't get me wrong,
my cock in your mouth is,
well, insert your own Hostess product metaphor here,
blah blah blah,
but every time I start to
climb that rickety wooden ladder
to ecstasy,
every time I get
two or three rungs from the top
and can just barely begin
to see the sexual Valhalla
just over the mountain ridge,
every time I'm just about to glimpse
the fabled Sight That No Man Can Recover From,
you unwrap your tongue from my cock
and you sit up
and shake my shoulders
and yell
FUCK ME JASON,
FUCK ME,
I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE,
I CANNOT SUCK THAT DICK ONE MORE SECOND,
YOU JUST HAVE TO FUCK ME,
RIGHT NOW, FUCK ME RIGHT THIS MINUTE!

And I think,
Fucking.
How pedestrian.

We should try an experiment, you and I,
to see if you could keep my cock
in your mouth a little longer.
I‚m thinking, for example, three weeks.

We will attach a needle to your arm
and I will dutifully change your IV bag every 24 hours
so that you'll make sure to get your daily nourishment.
We will form a two-person ecosystem, you and I.
Every time you urinate
I will catch the golden liquid in my outstretched hands
and drink it down
and then when I piss
it will go straight down your throat
into your stomach
and the process will start all over again.

When you are tired and wish to sleep
I will gently thrust my cock in and out of your mouth
taking care not to wake you
and when I am tired
you can do the same.

Not a drop of our bodies will be wasted
nor a single second of our time.

And you and I, we will build our own ladder,
a gleaming, silver, 10,000 foot ladder
that will make all the other ladders jealous
and we will climb those heights of ecstasy
no one has ever climbed before.
We will find Atlantis,
not buried in a watery depth
but floating miles over our head the entire time.
We will climb that ladder
and climb that ladder
and finally three weeks later,
weak, exhausted,
track marks in our arms,
sick of the taste of piss,
we will finally finish
and lie down heavily
on the futon
and smoke a cigarette.

And when we're done,
I promise to you right now,
I will go down on you
for six months straight.

Because, you see,
my tongue?
It knows a couple of metaphors
of its own.