AND THAT WAS THAT

Poetry Potluck

One Shot Wednesday

Whatever happened to hot apple pies

cooling on the window sill,

Norman Rockwell calendars,

and long romantic walks in the park?

And whatever happened to Ozzie and Harriet,

holding hands,

and hula hoops?

Whatever happened to cuddling

on the back porch swing,

men wearing hats,

and...

women without bras?

Whatever happened to pulp fiction,

poodle skirts and Parchesi,

slow dancing,

the strong silent type,

and...

women without bras?

Whatever happened to family picnics,

bouncing the kids upon our knee,

Sundays at grandmas house,

draft card burning,

civil disobedience,

bad acid trips,

wife swapping,

women without bras,

and horizons without limits?

It was a summer's day in 1986--

I remember it well.

I was strolling through the mall,

and being the observant fellow that I am,

I noticed that all the bosoms were unbound,

unfettered,

free to be all they could be--

to jig and joggle,

to wobble and weave,

to bob and bobble,

to bank and roll

with the normal ups and downs

of everyday existence.

Then,

the very next day,

as if by some cosmic signal from

THE GREAT GOOGLY-MOOGLY

ALL

THE

WOMEN

PUT

THEIR

BRAS

BACK

ON

And that was that.

And a colder wind has blown o'er the land...

but sometimes I still long for the good ol' days

when the nips that nourished a nation

were proudly displayed

through the milk of human kindness

and in the interest of full disclosure--

no fakes, forgeries, or false impressions given.

And I guess I should just forget about the past--

make a clean breast of it,

and end this uplifting tale.

But sometimes I can't help but wonder...

Whatever happened to hot apple pies

cooling on the window sill...

long romantic walks in the park...

and...