Got this less than a dollar dress on Saturday.
It even had a needle on it, barely holding itself, the needle stung my finger.
I didn’t know what it was and then I saw the needle.
I put it on, it was like the needle wasn’t ever there, but I knew it and
so I started to walk proudly on my golden glittery sandals
with my sparkling tights covering my calfs.
People hate you the most when you’re walking on high heels, wearing a tight dress and golden accesories
on a business day.
They just keep on staring, they get mad at you for interupting their dull walking of the dogs ,
their dull shopping of all the greasy meat in the world,
their dull dull bald heads with their dull dull dark faces.
I imagined myself lately in L.A.
A girl could easily get away with this dress even for breakfast there.
I imagined myself leaning on tall palm trees and drinking champagne
with the Hollywood sign above me.
There is something about summer and heat and sun that goes so well
with the desert.
I feel my slithering feminity going up and down my thighs, fixing itself finally in the hard ground.
Suddenly I’m the one being sang to,
I’m wearing my legs like the heaviest pair of leather pants
and he’s talking to me.
He says :
Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light
Or just another lost angel?
pictures by dad