Mal de Mer

Shimmering sunscreen,

grease and oil,

flash and bake till hot tits broil.

Bite a hangnail, shake your hair,

vanity is everywhere.

Topless twosome indent sand,

shielding eyes with underhand,

turning over underside,

exposing cellulite behind.

Get them hot fresh cinnamon buns!

Four round mounds baked overdone.

Cookies simmering, raisined teats…

Ah those summer seaside treats!

Anoint in oils like vinaigrette,

toss and turn in sandy sweat.

Would that past our prime display

ripened breasts like great soufflé…

Bake ‘em, broil ‘em (suckled mounds),

alas they are too outward bound.

So they’ll remain sheened opaline;

shimmering, jiggling unforeseen,

totally titally unaware,

hidden from the summer air.

Oh the beach is so unfair!

I think I have some, mal de mer.

©1996 Corrine Greenblatt-Schlessel