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"sunken treasure at the bottom of
the sea," thinks the
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
"if only i could grow my fingers two
miles long, and just reach around
down there, and pull some of it
up."
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is used to watching something that
is one size, grow to a much bigger
size. so it doesn't seem like
too big a stretch of the imagination,
so to speak,
to imagine his own fingers growing and
growing and growing until
they are two miles long.  sure, they
would be long and skinny
and scary-looking, but,
well, if they could feel around down
there and
then grab ahold
of some of that buried treasure
lurking at the bottom of the sea,
that would sure be nice.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is standing on a secluded beach,
looking out to sea.
"it sure is pretty here," he thinks,
looking out to sea, and then
down, at his own big dick, expanding
now, to its full-on ready-to-spurt-cum
size.
like i said, he's used to seeing
at least one of his body parts
get longer, and longer, and
longer, and, as this happens now,
to his great big dick,
he looks at his fingers,
and at the bright
glossy shininess of the sea,
and
dream he does,
and dream
he does.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appares in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)