Sunday, August 19, 2007


By the little are equal to the large we don't mean the large are the same as the small. You you think I'm going to believe in you when you're as tasteless as all that?

Get ready to hew to the labels, sew to the styles. I regard tops and bottoms like personalities, press and hang. Am I better than the last? Would I have found you if I had walked some other way?

Trust your new muses, darling, and there you go. You're off, dirty hair and clean dress, younger and older, fatter and thinner.

I love her oldest clothes, those that still smell of sweaters. She was my reassurance. She's more an indulgence these days, and smells like blonde brownies.

But on we go. Tell me again what you told me and this time I won't call for my line. I'll tell you you're the one I want. I didn't and I regret having to regret it and I'm so very sorry.

I can feel the end of the summer inspiration coming on like the chill. Rain in the rural is for the grain and the cotton and sun in the city is for me.
She had a name, she had a spirit, she had a line in the play if you waited to hear it
But the master of disguises, her demise was her design, they said

-Sunset Rubdown, "The Mending of the Gown"


Anonymous Spencer said...

Who is this you're talking about?

August 20, 2007 9:17 PM  
Anonymous Alison said...

Why is my scent such a central topic among everyone these days?

August 23, 2007 10:29 AM  
Blogger Spencer said...

Here's hoping you're "Secretly" writing another post. I feel so left out of everything, being a Northling.

August 27, 2007 8:40 PM  

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