That is not going to work, I tell myself as we stare into the closet at a white, flouncy, cotton skirt. It will work, myself tells me.
If the sun is just right, it'll be
fine. The light will bounce off of it
and combine all the things in the
world right below your waist. Who
could ask for more?
If the wind is just right, it'll be
fine. The sly winds of the east and west
would co-mingle at a two mile an hour
breeze that lifts the hems above your
knees. Your thighs are caressed and your
hands move fast. How would you like that?