she called her bra , "fort knockers"for that chest held everythinga cell phone and her gemstonesand her keys upon a ringand all of the cosmeticsthat she put upon her facesome lipstick and some toothpicksand a canister of maceher credit cards and walletand a little sack of changesome peppermints with bits of lintstrategically arrangeda snappy little derringershe used for self defensesome doggie treats and rent receiptsthe volume was immenseher tweezers and her scissorsmeant to squeeze and cut and carveold calendars and candy barsso she would never starveher ipod and her GPSto find her way on landa pocket knife and silver fifein case she joined a bandand mary poppin's handbagwould have taken second prizeher boobs a B, bra, double Dfor she required that sizebut as the years unraveledand more goods she did investunhappily she found that shehad no room for her breastsso she cleared out the atticwhen she had no room to spareand sure enough, she moved that stuffinto her underwear
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