that caused such an uproar,
about an unsuspecting fool
delivering pizza,
a fictional account of a man
carrying this wilting box
stained red with sauce
into the mouth of a fly trap
where women waited to
use and abuse him,
and I wish it was me,
shocked at myself for thinking this,
scared that the reality is far, far worse,
her control over me only
without the brief moment of joy
before the jaws
of the fly trap snaps shut,
the bliss of the innocence
most men feel before they
find out they have been used,
and I wonder when
she writes about this,
about some other woman
who laid out her private fantasy,
whether or not she wished
she was that woman
and just who she saw in her head
playing in part in this seduction,
and whether or not
it is fiction at all
in her head
or what she does already.
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