Spread over hard baguette,
Connected with strands of bucatini,
Coursing with sauce poulette,
Pumped head to toe by tender artichoke,
My hunger don't abate,
I lick your throat and scent radicchio,
Taste the dressing only you could create,
I knead your toes and feel the jelly 'neath,
Then juices of your rump,
Your mind, like a fine wine, suits my palate,
Taste sweet and body plump,
I dive inside,
The feasting never ends,
A cornucopia for the senses,
An experience both rich and intense.
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