by Maria Francesca
Her name was Ana,
and she was the kind of dame
that made a man want to have a seizure
just to get her attention for a minute:
eight miles of leg
and in that slinky black dress
I could see clear up
to the seven mile mark;
a backside that could sweeten my tea any day;
a waistline I could wrap my hands around.
And her breasts...
her breasts were soft golden mountains
that made me feel alright
about the fact
that she had even odds
of being able to spell
just part of the word 'banana' -
maybe less than even odds,
but who cared?
and her lips?
- well, to be honest,
I couldn't tell you
because those proud, firm knockers
were as far north as my gaze
was in danger of travelling.
"Yeah," I told her,
"Your qualifications are just fine -
The secretarial position is yours."
Posted on 01/08/2013
Copyright © 2023 Maria Francesca
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by George Hoerner on 01/08/13 at 12:52 PM|
That reminds me of how the hired where I worked for so many years. They called it "The Wall Test". If she walked forward up to a wall and her nose was the first thing to touch it she wasn't hired. Cute write lady.
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 01/08/13 at 12:55 PM|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/08/13 at 05:22 PM|
Sad when true. A vivid inside view of some of us. Thanks for this.
|Posted by Mo Couts on 01/10/13 at 02:39 AM|
Sizzling. Wonderfully done.