Spoiled Pets and Boobies

If I go to my site's stats, I can see the referring addresses to my site. For instance, if someone finds my blog through google, I can see what they typed in the search thing. I just saw a scary one. Someone found my site by googling "gaping pee hole." What the hell? I usually get lots of stephen dunn and lorrie moore searches, but "gaping pee hole"?? One word. Porn.
Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you. Whoever you are.

Today, my sister and I went to the pet store because we spoil our pets. I have a cat named Eloise and then our family has a dog (golden retreiver) named Lola. My sister is in love with the dog while I am in love with the cat. There's also Thomas but he's a boring cat and sort of just sits there with evil eyes. I think he's gay too. Anyway, my sister bought Lola bows for hair!!!! And two shirts!!! Are you kidding me? It's actually really funny. I bought my cat a new bed! That's normal, right? God I need to find something more insightful to write about. Sheesh.

Lately, I've been writing longer poems. I don't know why. It must be a growing thing. A new stage in my development, perhaps. Here is my latest long poem. I actually like this one. That's rare.


Detachment


Just to see what it's like
I stuffed my training bra with tube socks.

I wish they were still socks,
so I could remove them before a jog,
before the spring of trampolines.
How breezy and light that would be.

Don't get me wrong. They can be useful.
Babies, v-necks, and free meals. They get me places.
But in a perfect world, they'd be detachable,
most likely with the help of velcro.

The rip and split of boob-removal.
Two breasts growing off the top of your dresser
would be a typical morning image, your wife sleeping
next to you, boobless, and without nipples.
Instead she'd have two strips of human velcro
placed evenly like band-aids.

You have scrapes across your chest
from the strips chafing you during sex,
and you brag about them to your tennis friends,
before comparing marks, noticing that his are larger
because his wife has more voluptuous strips,
so you return home that evening before dinner
and ask your wife if she'd consider velcro enhancement.

She will eat her asparagus and chicken in silence,
then replace her boobs to her chest,
making sure they are even, pointing in the same direction.
She will soon have issues about the length and width of her velcro,
which you can relate to for other reasons,
but she will never take her breasts off again,
and then we'd be back where we started,
always wanting what we don't have.
Bigger. Smaller. Tighter. Rounder. Higher.
Or even non-existent.