don't run out of gum

she was a country girl,
she had that going
on,

the down on the farm
twang with

the checkered
blouse, the boots,

the daisy dukes. everything
but a strand of straw
dangling from her pouty
over sized lips.

before
she made love, she liked
to chew

on a fresh stick of gum
or two,

chewing it in my ears
while we got
busy

with each other.

smacking it, clicking
it
with her tongue
and teeth,

blowing an
occasional
bubble or two,

popping it loudly
at certain

moments, nearly
bursting my eardrum.

was it fun and different.
a little cup
of crazy,

yes, but

I made sure to keep a pack
of juicy fruit

on the nightstand.
god forbid

we'd run out of gum.