My Candy Girl

Green mint breath,
with a predator’s thirst,
her hot steamed plunder,
spanked to affection;
some candy man love.

Her tom-tom palms,
such smooth pony thighs;
candy requires perfection,
ride, boy ride.

The monkey house screams,
call it a wild girl whisper,
her hot scripted words;
I believe in love.

Candy riders, where’s this going?

Going to slaughter,
touching her thighs;
riding the animal slide.

My candy girl,
little steamed fluffer,
she sweats warm venom;
I feel her love.

You’re pretty slow, if you still don’t know.

It’s called taste of the savage,
for ponys and monkeys,
a sweet attraction;
for candy boy love.

She was hired to please,
to guard, above the knee.

You got it now.

It was ‘62 and I was hot.

2010 Barry Comer –


About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, the Democratic Socialists of America and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
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2 Responses to My Candy Girl

  1. dickieleroo says:

    Did the ending change? The original thing I read was “It was ’62 and I was 8”. This made me feel uneasy, but in a good way. It’s funny how a single word can change the general feeling so much, isn’t it?

    Now my emotions are ones of subtle romance, sadness, eroticism and deviance. And I thoroughly enjoy all of those emotions.

  2. Adam Luebke says:

    A burning sensation after a sharp release of energy; lingering in the aftermath.

    You’re pretty slow if you still don’t know comes off well, possibly because of its simple rhyme, adding a firmer touch to a poem that reads like a powerful, but fading memory.

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