You can tell she's a designer by her
fine-tuned dishevelment, the

unwashed bob, the unkempt wool sweater &
the neon green belt under it all. We're trying
on costumes and making adjustments with
safety pins and measuring tape.

Actors in and out, hands everywhere, lots
of slow looking and tiny movements that
change everything.

Morning still hangs
in the air like a slowly falling arc, it's
eleven o' clock. Smiles from
Artist to artist. Little moments.

The sting of caffeine still surrounds my
upper chest, sending shots of pain and exhilaration
to my brain. Morning light graciously floods
the windows and spills onto work tables and
gem-green linoleum.

Back and forth,
          back and forth.