“Those Wareham Nights”
The romance of ring-tab beer cans existed in my mind years ago.
Although, I never drank one myself.
They belonged to a world that existed in the past.
Sitting on a altar made of sand and rock.
A sacrifice to the gods.
A Dune oasis.
Pulled a ram from the Bush.
An Aarakean thumper summoning a sand worm.
He who controls the spice controls the worms.
She who controls my worm controls my vice.
Fremen fellatio princess warrior.
Subsequent days spent in Calamine quality control.
Sand flea sentience.
Bites for days.
Calamine, all mine.
Love potion number nine.
I still taste the spice melange.
Even now, all these years later.