I'd eat the crumbs
that you have dropped
into the mud outside.
I'd have your sneakers
as companion on those nights
when you are gone,
to screw around with relatives,
for no good reason, mind you.
But, when I really think about
what in this life of lives
would turn me on,
it is the thought of tasting,
just a tiny, little bit
of Badedas that has
for a few minutes
played host to you,
immersed within.
O my sweet Jesus.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/badedas/