Wonder bra

When I was a teen, so absorbent,

My friend and I would share our coins,

To buy a magazine.


We’d huddle on a bench – slatted,

Or on a bank, with Mars wrappers – scattered,

Cool pages across our knees,

Glossy, exciting, promising

Lives we would never live.

Perfect bodies and laughing faces,

Set in time.


A feature, not physical, spoke of hygiene.

Always dry under your breasts it urged,

That evening, I explored with fingers,

That area, and wondered where,

Water might linger beneath or between.

Now I know!



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