Breast Man

They have never stopped watching me or reminding me of my own, inferior pair that cannot shoot sweetness at the world’s avid mouths. They lurk in mirrors and behind drapes, disguise themselves as crockery, solar flares, or bells that ring backwards: wholly holy. If they were ever to blink, we would all disappear— let’s keep them under wraps and over underwires where they’ll be safe. Only then can men preserve our immense dignity and not tremble like virgins at the sight of them, for the truth is they are the most human thing.