The Museum of Things Men Think are Foreplay

By Bea Sophia

Welcome to the permanent collection.

Admission is free but the orgasms aren’t.

Room I: Antiquities.

Exhibit A:

Thumb circling the nipple

like a lost archaeologist

trying to summon Wi-Fi from stone.

Room II: Renaissance.

Exhibit B:

Neck biting with the accuracy of a toddler

attempting oil painting.

So much red, so little technique.

Room III: Modern Wing.

Exhibit C:

Ass slapping.

Interpretive label reads:

“Artist believes women are malfunctioning jukeboxes.

Insert coin, hit hard, music happens.”

Room IV: Interactive Exhibit.

Exhibit D:

The Clitoris,

mishandled like a broken joystick.

“Player one has died.

Insert another quarter.”

Room V: Audio Guide.

Exhibit E:

The whisper: you’re so wet.

Spoiler:

I was already Niagara before you arrived

with your leaky water pistol.

Exit through the gift shop.

Everything is cheap plastic.

Men leave with tote bags

that say Best Lover Alive.

Meanwhile, the staff are still sweeping up

my unsatisfied ghosts.