you don’t need them for this dance.
Actually you don’t really want them.
Think of the Iraqi vet who lost a leg,
held you close, said without it he could
get closer than any other man could.
Think of his under quilts tango. Think
of big bellied men, so big dancing is
like trying to hold another with a
bundling board between of the
body reaching for each other. Think of
the 20’s if you want to dance black
ness out of you, frenetic and wild,
still beautifully controlled as tango
should be. You don’t see breasts,
jiggling and bouncing, flesh bombs
slapping you in the face. Those
women bound their boobies tight,
didn’t let the girls flounce or wiggle.
They longed for boy-like flat
breasts. So if you want to move
with your man in the closest tango
embrace, where your heart beats are
as close as if in another’s skin,
stay away from all plastic surgeons
with their silicon and blubber