by Sunday Avery
I really can’t help thinking about boobs,
They’re so close to my desk, where I write,
sitting there, trying to be ignored,
so I won’t embarrass myself
and devote a poem to them.
And why should we pretend? Lots of things
look like boobs a little bit.
Like two Cheerios. Or the Deathstar.
My mom got a boob-job once, and
it was pretty spectacular.
Anyways, if you are wondering about mine
(and I wouldn’t blame you)
They’re pretty good, sort of useless,
I really don’t use them for anything
except hiding away.
Not like Dita Von Teese. Her boobs
are like two very valuable Faberge eggs,
with thirty-two thousand Google image results.
She wears them all out-and probably
wrote a book about them.
Sunday Avery is a poet who lives in San Jose, California and writes reviews for EZ Read eBookstore.
*Photo courtesy of agroffman.