I'm crimped all day
In a deep, dark D's sepulcher.
I am enclosed,
Waiting for some wind blown,
On the teats bestowed--
To be fleshly fallen, mind-blow mounts, molto.

I am a rack;
I'm love-to-eye lungs.

I've been palled
In 'forms[1] stretched. . .keep me tight in--
The jugs stay penned, straitlaced.
I have no need of friendship
Because we're a twain;
It's lactational lunching I disdain.

I am a rack;
I'm love-to-eye lungs.

I talk of "lungs";
It's a word you've heard before.
It's slanging for "mammaries."
He joked, "go for the jug'lar,"[2] a "titticism" tried
By a lech'rous Latin. . .let his tongue elide.[3]

I prefer "rack";[4]
It's Anglo Saxon

I have a nook
That since puberty has bisected
My glands, shielded by bra armor,[5]
Hiding my bazooms,
Safe from grappling grooms
Who'd tug those jugs, mam nodes; Wonder-stuffed[6] me.

I am a rack;
Eyes scan for my lungs.

And a rack feel is great
For a guy who transcends "spy."


[1]Maidenform
[2]derived from Latin "jugularis"
[3]to omit, in this case, a vowel from a word
[4]"rack" has many meanings as a noun and verb. In the sense here, it's most likely derived from "the neck and spine of a forequarter," which is related to "framework, stand, grating," which derives from Middle Dutch "rec," framework, derived from Old English "reccan," to stretch. In that sense, this parody is a rack.
[5]brassiere, from French "brassière," bodice worn as an undergarment used to support the breasts"; from Middle French "bracieres," camisole, the Old French meaning being armor for the arms; "bras," arm.
[6]Wonderbra