Hazards of Poetry

Look, when you open up like that,
you're inviting something—
a bit of food, a Tootsie Pop,
some popcorn flipped off the back of a hand,
a ball gag. Something. The problem was
you'd just been reading Sharon Olds,
and is it my fault the only line I can remember
is buttocks, backs of the knees, the cock
in our mouth, ah the cock in our mouth?
Next time, try Billy Collins
and maybe I'll pick up the yard.