Millenials' Bliss

O baby come to me,

Come to me now.

I need your sweat,

Your salty tears,

Our silhouette

Across the display

Of a Netflix light.

If an animal, I’d be a

Wounded deer, a

relentless

target to a cupid

With an ill-willed and

Sneaky grin.

You had me at “Netflix

And chill”

And sold at the

Addition of Popeyes.

Even now, my toe

Grazes a chicken bone,

Sending a deviant shudder

Over lax limbs.

I glance over the

Full Metal Alchemist

Bed sheets, and a

Non-existent headboard:

Typical Millennials interlude.

“My Big Black King,” I say.

“My Chocolate Drop Angel,”

You say.

I nuzzle you.

Out of nowhere materializes a

Tiny diamond ring over a

pack of Rolos.

“Let’s make it official,” you say.

“Yes,” I say, with tears,

“Remind me to pay the

Netflix subscription."

Author's Note

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