hidden away in devonshire street
oh-so-cool, oh-so-groovy. & dancing
in our seats to the sounds of duke ellington.
exit to a rendition of paper moon
onto the street, towards the train station.
& suddenly, "do you want to go in?"
"oh, yes! let's do."
in this brightly lit fantasy shop,
a diamond in the midst of the gloomy windows &
darkened houses, we drink champagne,
for it is richard's birthday! who is
richard? i do not really know, except
he sits outside watching the cars
run by. so with a drink in hand i
buy a pair of stockings, try on
a french maid's outfit
for kicks.
"it is so unlike you!
i was so surprised!"
they will exclaim later
& i will smile sheepishly,
somewhat disturbed that
phones now carry photos
of this event.
back in kensington there is fighting
& tears & arguments. north, south,
east & west. every corner of
the room has been embraced.
((here i discover that i
have 'stolen' shorts worn
under a french maid outfit!
oh, what to do? what to do?))
then there is forgetting & discussing,
& circles that never want to end.
post.script. i just wanted it to be noted that i have never before this, & will never again, wear a psuedo-kinky costume for purposes of amusement or otherwise. no males were present at the time of such attire being worn. subsequent photos will be be reasoned by the effects of champagne & turning nineteen. shorts are currently lost in a pile of my second-hand clothes. they will be recovered & most likely framed.