This, despite the cockroaches, despite the crazy-ass thundestorms, the 55 mph winds, the roof damage, the leak in my closet, the 90+ degree temperatures, is my favorite time of the year.
Because women are beautiful. And they are especially beautiful now. In the sauna-like humidity, cats lose their winter coats, flowers, bloom and fruit ripens, and women, women put on their summer tits.
Sweet bosoms.
Alas, I'm a little too old, now. I love, but love looks elsewhere. Still. I am surrounded by the bosomy reminder that bosoms, tits, sweet, heavy, fragrant, perfumed, heaving, perky, ahem, that life is good and worth living.
Maybe at the beach, I'll curl up with a copy of Time Enough for Love
