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To Teri Browning's previous piece

Transcendence

so you make it all up
so what?
and the tits you imagine as
two giant luminescent fruits
oranges perhaps
are really lamps
you've been staring into
while licking citrusy lips
and wishing like hell
my 34 DD's were sassy
just
like
that
and didn't swing low
didn't jiggle 
to
  and fro
but what the hell--
here we are and you
even have a
half-mast-er
see?
it's all about transcendence
tumescence
the fate/weight of the world
in this poem
and I can rise above
if you can

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