ass

because you sit on it for hours, it is rarely clean or smooth or pretty. ass topography is speckled with pimply red bed-bug like dots and cuneiform hairs. a hammock of water balloon flesh hides the under-ass parenthesis and worse, a shit chunk can get caught in ass hair and dangle like a tick in the jungle. a pristine shiny clear-skinned tight ass is a rare find indeed. it doesn’t survive much past 14 which is why, after a few beers, a martini or a weed hit you blur the view and make it right. you ignore the spots, the dingle berry, the saggity ass and give it a squeeze or a bite. as for your very own back porch, it is next to impossible to take in. a twist in front of a mirror can offer a 3/4 snapshot, but gives no indication of how broad of beam or distended one has become. the stand-above-the-mirror-on- the-floor approach reflects an alien ass crack high on spider legs, walnut balls with a cock tip in a peek-a-boo, sweaty bush. without a friend with a camera you’ll never see your fat ass the way it really looks. a friend of mine twirling out of the shower felt a soft slap on the back of her upper thigh only to realize that it was delivered by her very own cheek, a blubbery wet buss. it made her laugh, but she was horrified. i think asses begin, unless belonging to an athlete or a ballet dancer, to find gravity in the late twenties and even if it’s a tight ass, it can become a dirty ass. it’s been sitting on itself long enough to accumulate a collection of creases and black heads. if you’re lucky your boyfriend or girlfriend will pop and scrub and smooth you out like a soap stone. but the thing is, no matter how disturbing this part of the body might be, we’re interested. we have to look. maybe face first, or tits, or crotch, but a nice shot of a nice ass in blue jeans will not be ignored. a kid walks by on the sidewalk and you turn and you look. you always will. the way an ass walks is an action miracle. male or female. a big hefty left, right, left ass-in-a-dress is a Fellini spectacle worshiped for centuries. how many tourista walk all the way around the Statue of David just to catch a glimpse of that famous forever young rear end? maybe, unless you’re a total pedophile, a dirty ass, a be-zitted butt, an ass crack with pubic seaweed sprouting out like a song, is hot as hell. we all have our favorites. we all fantasize about how so and so’s will look out of shorts or stepping out of the shower. we can’t help it. we even watch each other watching. it gives us a snort. and there are some asses impossible to picture. on some, there’s no movement whatsoever, or what appears to be no ass at all, just a plumb line from the upper back to legs, or, weirdly, an indentation, as if there’s a vacant lot where on others an actual ass bounces along with a smile. i would kill to examine, like an archeologist, one of these ass negatives in the flesh.

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