Triple Sonnet for Studmuffins Wrapped in Bacon

Dorothy Chan

I’d like to order a lover wrapped in bacon

          from your secret menu, because I’m a really

hungry Chinese girl at this drive-in —

          give me all meat, all man, 100% Grade A

all-natural cut with a side of sensitive,

          and don’t forget the condiments in the bag,

and isn’t this ideal? Having your cake

          and eating it too, or having your beefcake

and eating him too, or having your studmuffin

          feed you strawberry cake in the bubble bath

like you’re both rich and happy with unlimited

          wardrobes and private jets, and I want to feel

like women with enviable thighs, in erotica

          winding up their men: she winds, he drools,

          she winds, he drools — her boy toy or man toy,

and I want to lean in for a kiss after telling

          my lover about wrapping him in bacon,

because bacon tastes good on everything

          from deviled eggs to mac and cheese,

and Heart Attack Burgers on secret menus:

          three greasy patties and bacon bacon bacon,

a little melted cheese, and once I watched

          an interview with a starlet who said how

melted cheese was her favorite food,

          and no more beautiful words have ever

been spoken, and let food be your fantasy:

          how children believe that the moon is made

of cheese or how adults want to live in houses

made of gouda, and in Hong Kong, my cousin

          Janet recommends cheese hot pot with chicken,

and no, that’s not the same thing as fondue

          also known as the 2000s version of romantic:

dip your date in cheese, or take me back

          to the drive-in, and let me order some #1s

of hunks of men on bread dipped in cheese

          and some #4s of man sandwiches: cut

and chiseled to perfection with tomatoes

          and special sauce, or what about some #5s

on the breakfast menu: studmuffins both sweet

          and full of whole grains and buff buff buff,

and why is it that I start giggling when my love

          and I start talking about food — pass the sauce,

                    please, I’m ready to eat you up, order you again.


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