Wonder bra

When I was a teen, still absorbent,

My friend and I would gather,

Our coins and get a magazine.


We would sit on a bench – slatted, hard,

Or on a bank, littered with Mars wrappers,

The pages lying across our knees,

Glossy and exciting, promising

Lives we would never live.

Perfect bodies and laughing faces,

Set in time.


A feature, not physical, was keen on hygiene.

Always dry under your breasts it implored,

And later, I explored with my fingers,

That part of my body, and wondered,

Where water might linger beneath or between.


Now I know!


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