In a department store, looking for inspiration.
There!
A two-piece,
a corset and jean combo,
one off the shoulder thing.
A Missoni wrap dress I’d definitely buy if I had the money.
An idea:
the beach and a strapless mini.
In my imaginary suitcase some animal print and a glass unicorn, to be kept next to me as I sleep under the mysterious twinklings of other galaxies.
In this fantasy, lips and faces drawn thick into the sand, ingrained to surround my slumbering flesh.
These drawings are my day time activity, meant to occupy me when living on a deserted island gets to be lonely.
I brush past the people staring at me,
for I am dressed inappropriately.
Behind the bend on my left,
a tea-tray worth more than my weekly groceries.
The lips and faces plastered onto its silky surface observe my discomfort with haughty recognition.
To my right,
Shoe Heaven.
Quite good guards these are, intimidating and all.
My style has been cramped;
I’m heading down to the EXIT.
But there is still an AllSaints to see.
“Why so predictable? They could do with something other than hiding behind the same styles from year to year to year”,
I think as I enter the tube.
WAST WRTNG 