Today, I am taking it off. The lies and the layers. I am a dirty pearl waiting to be picked for the softball team, digging, pointing the toes of my too small shoes into the sand, making a home for my shell. When I go bare, please don’t snicker. I have never shown anyone my wires before. They are are shabby and well worn. Grandma’s bras. The ones she hangs on the shower curtain rod that dry to an uncomfortable crust because she uses bath soap to wash them. She was taught to do that. Only nasty girls don’t. You know them. Sticking their tongues out even though they don’t brush their teeth. No one makes them. Her shoulders are just as worn. There is a deep groove there. On both. No matter how she rubs and lotions them, they stay. Roadmaps to the olden days. They hold big secrets, affairs, real fathers, stolen money. Forgive me if I cast my eyes down. It’s hard to be transparent. I am easier to digest during the times I am murky and sticky like that annoying electrical tape that doesn’t actually hold anything together. It only makes your hands black. Gotta wash for dear life. And you better use the soap they use on those ducks after oil spills. Poor things. You know it gets in their eyes. The tape the pastor used on my parents. Let no man put asunder, what God has joined together. Somebody get him a roll of duct tape. The kind with cute designs on it. He might like the cloud kind.