radishes are red, too

the sexy big-dicked teenage boy is thinking about martians
while he is jerking off.  the sexy big-dicked teenage boy
is lying naked on his broad well-muscled back and
tugging on his big smooth dick while thinking about
mars and the martians, martians who, at this very moment,
may be roaming in armed bands over that planet,
gathering provisions to load onto their
ships and carry those provisions to earth
as peace offerings and/or weapons, whichever
may be deemed appropriate. and as the
sexy big-dicked teenage boy lies there naked
in his bedroom jerking off,
he envisions the martians taking off from
the planet mars in their big smooth shiny
ships and heading toward the earth, intent
on war or peace, it doesn't seem to matter
to them, just as long as they arrive
here on the surface of our rich ripe
planet, and as the sexy big-dicked teenage boy
lies there naked on his back pumping away
on his cock, he envisions the little naked
footprints the martians are
making as they step onto the desert soil of nevada,
the plowed fields of iowa, the dusty playgrounds
of seattle, and the sexy big-dicked teenage boy
starts spurting big hot gobs of gooey cum
that spatter his chest and belly and
dribble into his wiry lightly-musk-scented
pubic hair, and he lies there spurting
cum thinking about the martians, longing
for the martians, so hungry for martians
that his mouth waters and spit trickles
down his cleft and handsome chin.
"gotta love them martians," he whispers,
and then he giggles so charmingly, it's almost
like he's not alone.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.)