Titties Get More Likes

The poet wrote brilliant words beneath her breasts, and bared herself for all to see. “Come for the tits, and stay for the eloquence,” she hollered marching from the market to the public docks. Dogs ran from their masters to follow her. Branches swayed as she passed.

She’d just discovered she’d existed that morning.

In the mirror, after her coffee and epiphany, she dragged the pen across her skin, going over the words on her ribs twice, to make sure they were legible. Close up or from a distance. The attention didn’t matter.

Reverie and irreverence were what she sought.

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