TheBanyanTree: At The Mall

[NancyIee at aol.com]

In a message dated 9/25/06 11:21:07 PM Eastern Daylight Time, 
monique.ybs at verizon.net writes:
How can cleavage be frightening?

When it becomes the "Identity" on the person . .um . .sporting it.

Your son brings home a lady to meet you.   You hear her name, shake her hand, 
and say how glad . .   She seems okay.  Your son beams, and you are happy for 
him in that moment.

"I met you the other day,:"  she says.

You wrack your brain. Brown eyes, pony tail, four or five earrings. No, 
doesn't ring a bell.  Sorry.  You invite her to sit, have something to drink.  She 
slips off her denim jacket.

Oh, yes.  You remember, now . .cleavage.  A mighty pair of moons.

How sad.

On her tombstone, "she lived, she died, no one knows what she did. But, she 
had a mighty cleavage."