The Buttock in the Bikini and Other Lascivious Deserts

By

David Gottfried

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The Buttock in the Bikini and Other Lascivious Deserts

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Redolent in its roundness

Sired by the summer

It complements Spring’s forsythias and other fruity flowers

On a man or a woman

It always augers sex

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So sinuous, so sly it asks to be ripped off

It is the shell of an eclair

Revealing a white fluffy interior

I can sink my teeth into

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It’s the breast down under

In the Netherworld

It is Eden’s forbidden fruit

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And when I ponder that palace so round,

The lines softening to curves that woo like plaintive moans that say ooooh

I think of biology courses:

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All bacteria come in one of two shapes:

There are rod-like bacteria and there are spherical bacteria

(And then there is one bacterium that assumes the shape of a spiral, and it is called treponema pallidum – I am sure the Palladium, where many people got the clap, was named after it --and it causes

Syphilis)

And throughout the world, rods desire spheres

The bouncing beach balls of eternal youth

Where the flesh never sags

And the skin gleams like grapes and nectarines

Like Rubies and Emeralds

Like the orange ices stuffed into plastic cylindrical rods we bought at the A &P

The milk you drink on a hot summer’s day

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Part 2

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And sex was on my mind when I took biology courses and when I took chemistry courses.

And I saw fornication even in the unliving world of inorganic chemistry, the chemistry that isn’t tethered to life and carbon chains.

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And when I was 14, I wrote:

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THE ORGANIC ESSENCE OF INORGANIC CHEMISTRY

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(After all, metals give non-metals electrons like men giving women jism)

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Acid and Base

Yields Water and Salt

With Divine Grace

The Moles somersault

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Antinomic Ions

Their selves they embrace

Bit part peoples

Their selves they erase

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Sodium glares

Espies chlorine, bleached queen

They forswear their spears

Become a Condiment Serene

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ON MARRYING INHUMAN THINGS

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I want to marry a slice of cake

The sugared frosting yields the sweetest kiss

The fluffy texture the softest caress

The simplest form of connubial bliss

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I want to marry a barking dog

Who pants in earnest with passion pure

Whose loving limbs run to me

Of his trust I can be sure

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I want to marry a ravishing rose

Her rapturous aromas beckon me

Make a human’s pheromone’s

An ugly, sweaty entity

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I want to marry a common orange

Shapelier than any woman’s hips

Whose sectored, splendored succulence

Offers unceasing, tingling fillips

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I want to marry the shining sea

Whose crashing waters drown all foes

Whose pledges last an eternity

Reflecting my rage like Shofar blows

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NICOTINE BARBEQUES

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The burning embers of a cigarette

Is the closest I get to a barbeque

My parched, impoverished palette

Takes a commodious, catholic view

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I’m looking for a smoke at Four A.M.

Insomnia is my only friend

There is no plausible stratagem

Averting the inexorable ugly end

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I hate the restraint of my middle age

The dithering wrought by life’s censures

I want to reignite my rage

Belting violence and its pleasures

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I want to burn my whole life down

My house, the city’s imprisoning streets

My life, alone, bereft of renown

The bourgeoisie and their cutting conceits