GREAT
HERRINGBONE
TWEED
(fall fashion idols)
Those guys with the water bottles are humming again,
'those guys', as I say it like a thug from the Bronx. But
they are so cute and formless, these high-fashion fellows,
and I'm not ever of their 'ilk'. OK, well, you know what
I mean. There's a little box atop the table they gather 'round -
a glass case with what seems a beautiful candle within. Lit.
A'flame. Encased in a gold filigree. Really, pretty nice.
-
If this were a hospital, I could see a famous heart being
placed within it, for display - some cranky martyr or
a famous priest, a monk, a President even perhaps. Or like
Stalin or Lenin, let's say - whoever that is on display
for 80 years already in a Moscow waxy cave - someone
others come to look at and stare and gawk. Even dead
there's money to be made if you get a good 'gate'.
-
Anyway, these guys are fluttering around something
like a butterfly or moth would catch the sense of that
candle's flame. Linger, loom, get too close and burn.
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