they are the first thing i notice
when i see a woman
now, that i'm
older, i try to be less obvious
at looking at them
but some breasts just
jump out at you
like headlights
in the fog
which a girl
i dated in maine took me
to
when i lived there
i saw the portland
headlight and we later
made out in her
jeep cherokee and i fondled
her headlights
and she smiled and said
" you like these,
eh?"
what can i say?
it is a fixation
that goes back to my college days
one of my college girlfriends
had 42c's and though she made
me wait months
before i slept with her
she would let me suck and fondle
her fun bags whenever i wanted
until she squealed
an opera singer i dated
in san francisco
had 48E cups
she bragged that in middle school
she had bigger tits than the teacher
she used to own a t-shirt that had
the mars candy logo
which covered her massive cleavage
with the slogan "indescribably delicious"
her mother made her get rid of
that shirt
another college girlfriend
went to bed with me
on the second date
and though
she only had a master's degree
in social work
she was proud of her
ph.dds
i think my breast fixation was caused
by not being breast fed as a baby
sometimes, just looking at objects
that resemble mammary glands
will trigger a palovian response
pillows remind me of a girl who
played in the marching band with me
in high school
we were "friends with benefits"
before it was called that
she bet me once i
couldn't make her come just
by sucking on
her funbags
she lost
grapefruits remind me of
a woman whose breasts i brushed
against by accident on the 6 train
at rush hour once
she just smiled
pears remind me of a girl
i knew in college
who was a good Christian bitch
but had the perkiest bits
my child hood friend lee-lee
who was the neighborhood
tomboy used to play baseball
and football with me and the guys
until one day she stopped
then i noticed her in high school
her breasts had gotten big as basketballs
and i stopped seeing her as "one of the guys"
on lexington avenue, i saw women
wearing pink t-shirts that say
" boobs on the move,
to fight breast cancer,"
and i smile knowing
some people aren't politically correct
there’s nothing like a
a nice jewish girl with
tig o bitties
and as i'm looking at a
painting of a woman's breasts
the painter/photographer
explains the painting to
me so scholarly and unerotic
which actually makes it more
erotic to me
denise tells me she enlarged the woman's
breasts
for effect and i tell her
if i did the same thing
feminists would
be all over
me
she brags she's not a prude or a puritan
which i love
but i try not to be obvious
about it
as i slyly check out her
chi chis under her white
cotton blouse
denise is holding a peegal
which is a hybrid of pekinese and beagal
and i'm no longer astounded by the
wonders of scientists, doctors
or plastic surgeons
if veterinarians
can mash up two breeds of dogs
and invent a new breed
then a plastic surgeon can turn
plain janes like carmen electra and pamela anderson lee
into bombshells
denise's breasts are perfect
i wouldn't change them for anything
i would place them in my mouth
like ripe fruit
remembering what my mother once
told me
"you play the game in the uniform
you were given"
anything more than a mouthful is wasted