the city is dying to be stylish
By D.A. Powell
the city is dying to be stylish. if only it meant more ugly
shoes: a return to eye contact
"girl be sensible" we want to say to fashion victims [who
become fashion vampires: no reflection]
they need to seem wan and bloodless. trousers purchased sizes
larger lend a pose of emaciation
in the windows of chichi stores dummies appear to be shrinking
their waistlines: arriviste dummies
who's doing all this hair? this lack of hair? at the salon we
flip through oncology today
some looks we look forward to looking back on. remember
ocean pacific. remember angels' flights
I had a bunch of things to do in the house that I thought weren't going to take very long and I'd get them done in the morning and go out, but a thing I was fixing in son's room had a piece of broken plastic that required improvisation a the thing I was drilling in the kitchen was in a position where I had to use my left hand while standing on a chair, and the things in my closet that I was shifting now that winter is trying to arrive had to be sorted so I could get rid of the ones I haven't worn in forever.
So I didn't actually get out of the house until Paul got home early following a dentist appointment. By then I had gotten into the mood to watch Avengers: Endgame -- I've only seen it straight through twice -- so I insisted on turning off the Steelers game to watch most of my favorite superheroes mostly do things of which I approve. Here are some photos from Winterthur's Hamilton and Burr: Who Wrote Their Stories?, about how their families and other Founding Fathers did just that.