"Crazy About Her Shrimp"

 We don't even take time
To come up for air.
We keep our mouths full and busy
Eating bread and cheese
And smooching in between.

No sooner have we made love
Than we are back in the kitchen.
While I chop the hot peppers,
She grins at me
And stirs the shrimp on the stove.

How good the wine tastes
That has run red
Out of a laughing mouth!
Down her chin
And on to her naked tits.

"I'm getting fat," she says,
Turning this way and that way
Before the mirror.
"I'm crazy about her shrimp!'
I shout to the gods above.
charles simic, "crazy about her shrimp"

Thanks to SL over at Assorted who kept this poem archived for me. No, that is not SL's image in the kitchedn posted above.