I need a new bra.

When I was young, my mother and her friends
were burning their bras--that was their rite
of passage. They were in their twenties, breasts
still firm and nipples erect, even after birthing
numerous children. I have birthed my own
and mothered more, and I say it's time
for a new bra, one with underwire that stays
in the seams, one with useful straps, one I can
toss in the dryer and still wear the next day.
Utiliatarian--that's me. Sexy, once. Pretty, maybe.

I gotta go. The new bra story must wait.
House full. Doggie needs walk. Should eat.
Will eat. Sister's a songwriter. Baby great-nephew
will be one year old this Sat. Friend of mine lost her daughter
to cancer (doesn't really feel right to put that in here
but I am thinking about the family).

Bras and the need of such and the burning--
well, the burning never ends.