ODE TO A RACK
I met Gillian Anderson’s magnificent breasts
in roughly 1999. She was attached to them,
of course. Otherwise, that would just be weird.
But… her breasts.
They were a work of art.
Holy among His creation.
And she was wearing one of those absurd mesh tops
that everyone wore back then
(except for me—I’m ugly; no one wants to see that)
which only allowed me, a head and a half taller
than her, unprecedented access. As it were.
It was revelatory--like seeing the face of God.
One of my friends stole her water bottle
because it’d touched her lips.