I was a Chi-Chi baby
That is ‘Not Bottle-Fed’
and I’ve never ever gotten past it
There’s just something about a breast!
Mama nursed me until I was two
Ahead of her time she was
No spinal-block for her
The fashion of the day
is thin & flat upfront behind
Only exceptions are the expectant
who wear their middles like trophies
nurse as a statement of femininity
and pump as a way to insure
an uninterrupted leisure
I declare June Breast Month!
What better than to celebrate
the gift that those who have resent
and that those who don’t have covet
We are such People! Are we not?
I mean really! All our recessions
our projections ill-proportioned
And it’s our mothers’ faults!
Or at least so says Sigmund Freud
I think rather that it’s what we hide
[the mystery we project on each other]
that calculably raises the mercury
in old-fashioned thermometers
Blows all our breakers!
A Chi-Chi baby knows these things you see!
A Bottle-Fed boy, now, he’s simply a lecher!