ABSTRACT
So, I’m in the thrift store after work; Tm smudged up with ink and my back hurts from running a printing press all day. Shopping has been mildly successful: I’ve found a wool sweater from Italy, a shirt for my lover and a 100% cotton bathrobe for myself. As I’m unloading my finds onto the counter for this dyke with a mustache and eye make-up to tally, I look up. There is this dress … hanging there (my neck freezes in a tilted position) … an incredible dress.
