Good Sex

On your birthday last year, I
Secretly put on a corset and
Hid it under a bathrobe
To surprise you

But you ended up talking on the phone
With friends for an hour, so
I sat stiffly just hoping
You wouldn't notice

But by the time that you hung up
The wire and the clasps had dug
Canals and dried water ducts
Like a sex map of my chest

And I mimicked all the movie stars
As I let the terrycloth slip off and
As I did, I imagined what
This would look like if it weren't us, and

I started laughing at myself
Pretending to be someone else
In that tiny dusty living room
Full of candy wrappers and dirty shoes

And our cat licking his ass and looking confused
And your face contorting with amuse, and I
Shared shortness of breath with you
I shared shortness of breath with you 'cause

Bad sex makes a good joke
That anyone can get
But good sex makes a bad joke
That's only funny if you were there