Her mind, she tells herself, is a Center
City mind. It's connected (somehow) to
the whole world. She still goes into Joan
Shepp on Walnut, even if she can't buy
anything. The fabrics, the cuts of the
dresses- this is who she is. Somewhere
in the back of her mind, she knows she's
been cut like a piece of fabric; & the hands
that cut her have made her inelegant.
To handle Joan Shepp silk with dishrag
hands, is to have waded into the deep
sogginess of the 'burbs, & emerged like jell-o.
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