BOOBS: AN ELEGY

Vivaldi’s L’Autunno starts to play
Shirts, sweaters, scarves and coats
Come out of closets and are freely applied
The sun grows hazy
My alertness dims as I walk down the street.

The Boob Season is over
Bare midriffs go south to Rio
The skimpy halters like
Slingshots filled with softballs
Are yesterday’s newspapers.

The life of the mind is cast back upon itself
My overt admiration for a willowy blond
With a tight green rayon top
Blows like a brown leaf
Pushed by the wind.

Where is hope when I need her?
Why is Persephone so cruel?
Where have all the summers gone?
I search for the answers.

Dr. John Breeskin, who prefers to be called Sparky

http://bathroompoet.net