I know I really smoke too much
But I really can't get enough
Of that salty taste in the back of my throat
That gets me coughing like an old goat
Whenever I'm off my feet
Agonizing on the toilet seat
I think of you as my special lubricant
Then suddenly everything is right
And I don't even have to fight
I don't even have to pant
Everything will go slow and easy
Without my ass having to stretch endlessly.
I can use you as marmalade
Because you'll spread so easily
Besides it would make me real sad
If I had to spend even a penny
On something available at arm's reach
And which can be as tasty as a peach.

Author's Notes: I was trying to make a poem by using other people's tastes and opinions. This poem is really not talking about me. It really isn't…)

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