The world’s in love with oil, love
And oil’s progeny,
Like methane, ethane, gasoline
Rich coal tar dyes in colors bold,
It stands to reason that such love
Must change our prose depiction
Of all esteemed, and lauded things
In English writ description.
Just as “golden” WAS the word
To convey untold beauty,
We now should look to carbon-based
Descriptors for this duty.
So when I say your eyes are oil
Pools of black (and oozy);
Or say your breath is redolent,
Don’t take amiss my meaning dear,
I do not mean offense;
I use the lingua franca, dear
Of oil dependence.
Your asphalt thighs enthrall the guys,
Your bottom’s like two barrels
Of sweetest crude (don’t think me lewd!),
Your lube is nonpariel!
You’re Esso’s best; effluences
Of jet fuel grace your vapor,
And tarry blobs adorn your knobs
And STP your nadir.
At $90 bucks a barrel, Hon,
I think the time is right
To tell you how your mouth’s a scow
Of oil sludge delight.
And how your teeth are like a wreath
Of oozing oil shale,
And how your carbon-based exhaust’s
The wind that fills my sail.