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Two soft lumps,
much too heavy sometimes,
causing a twinge between the shoulder blades.

Two soft do-not-touch
But I don't really care.
I wouldn't mind for someone's head to rest there
Drifting off, as I'm singing and smelling new-washed hair. . .

Two's company, so they say.
Are they sexy, or comfortable, and
what does that make me?
I like both.
But I've neither, and I look down at my chest to
see the lumps guarding my heart
and wish.

"Nice chest," says the faceless boy
passing by on Forbes.
At least he didn't say "tits."


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All original materials © 2003 R. Pickard