by Cydni Thompson Daniel Shapiro Shocked by my nipple in the mirror above the sink, I slept with socks and asked Jehovah for a re-alignment as my body had become the sound board in the backroom of the church with the stubborn knob. What does Pastor think when pencil skirt ladies fan the spirit into a tart froth, and do the ladies think at all before they yank my tights up beneath my dress with snap and gentility? Now the other nipple’s gone wild with conscience, having heard