Heavy Breather Zoo by Jeffrey McDaniel
Whatever happened to the heavy breather?
Technology—*69, caller ID—rendered
his kink obsolete. He is the 8-track
of deviants. He tried the internet
but in the naughty housewives chat room
his obscene instant messages
seemed perfectly normal, tame even,
which was damn near a death blow.
Should we gather up the last few
still out there, breathing all heavy
in the wild? Before extinction,
should we place a few in a special zoo,
with special cages, complete
with rotary phones, non-descript
furniture, crumpled-up sandwich
wrappers to re-create the natural habitat?
Perhaps a plaque that reads: here
sits the heavy breather. He used to call
unsuspecting housewives in the afternoon,
turn his breath into a fog machine.
He lived for that first intake of air,
the gasp that escaped her mouth
like a weather balloon as his fog
traveled through her.
