Space Sex

A lot of people ask me why I don’t have sex.

I just tell them to imagine space-sex,

the kind of space-sex where you lounge on the rings of Saturn−


watching the asteroids crash and burn into Earth,

while we massage each other in our indestructible lawn chairs.

And while we did it,

I’d wear a unicorn mask and eat a jellybean sandwich to make it all the more memorable.

And you’d be okay with that−because it’s our first time.


Then when Saturn’s orbit started to wrap towards the sun, climaxing—

the burning heat scorching our lovely bodies,

and the lilting hurricane harmonizing with our awkward yelps—

at the moment when we’re overdosing on that indescribable drug,

we’d look into each other’s eyes without fear,

Because we’re in space, honey,

a place where STDs and unwanted babies don’t exist,

and where we can eat all the cookies we want.


~ by ardentbowel on April 11, 2013.

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