Cleavage - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
She came into the room,
flaunting, she said, but then,
I do not know what it would be,
that she could use. She grunted,
flashing a pathetic looking one,
some would call cleavage, but not me.
So, I, in turn pulled out my garment,
most dear to me and flashed what,
in a moment of quiet deliberation,
had been exactly measured and recorded,
a true eight inches plus and, thick as a brick.
It was embarrassing but, in a way, so funny.
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