Healthy Fat Women Poem by James McLain

I see them almost daily.
Where ever I go.
More than one chin hangs down beneath me.
If I let it grow.
Triple rolls of fat like a tire,
surround me.
A few have attractive large breasts.
Like Bukowski,
I wonder how much milk they can hold.
Secretly I fear the worst.
Salt stains under her arms.
Do they smell like anchovies down there.
Even the dogs worry over,
white the caked muddy brown panties.
One tossed out the back over there.