marigold jelly

a big-dicked blonde boy walked into
a restaurant and
took a
seat by the window.
he had a raging hardon and
it was obvious.
a cockroach crawled up onto
the surface of the table and
started talking to
the big-dicked blonde boy.
"you'd sure look good in an old-fashioned
codpiece," said the cockroach.
"i think you're really built for it," added
the cockroach.
"you really think so?" said
the big-dicked blonde boy, embarrassed by
the attention, yet kind of
flattered, too.
"oh yes indeed i do," said
the cockroach. "you'd look
absolutely great in a codpiece."
"so exactly what is a codpiece?"
said the big-dicked blonde boy.
"it's just an old-fashioned
item of apparel," said the
cockroach, "quite
sexy, too, in a clean overt traditional
kind of way. it's kind of a pouch
for your dick and balls,
gives 'em room, and
shows 'em off
at the same time."
at that moment, a waitress
appeared, and the cockroach went
scurrying away.
the waitress handed the
big-dicked blonde boy
a menu.  "what would
you like to drink?" she
asked.
"beer," replied the
big-dicked blonde boy.
the waitress started chuckling.
"got some i.d.?" she asked.
"no," said the big-dicked blonde boy.
"well, sweetie, either you need to order
a soft drink, or i think you'd
better be on your way," she said.
"couldn't you just bring me
a whiskey?"
said the big-dicked blonde boy.
the waitress frowned.
"well, buster, it looks to
me like you'd just better be on
your way," she said to the
big-dicked blonde boy.
he shrugged, stood up,
and walked toward the door.
the cockroach was now sitting on
his collar.
"remember my advice," squeaked
the cockroach, "codpiece
for you -- and i'd make
it a nice soft velvet,
if possible."
"thanks," said
the big-dicked blonde boy,
as he strode off
into the sunlight,
its beams radiant
on his golden hair,
its heat liquid
fire on the front
of his
tight bulging
trousers.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book String Bean.)