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Dressing Down, 1962
- Article from:
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Poetry
- Article date:
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September 1, 2008
- Author:
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Copyright informationCopyright Poetry Foundation Sep 2008. Provided by ProQuest LLC. (Hide copyright information)
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"Shalom," called the pink-shirted man in the Oceanic
Terminal of Heathrow, and I snapped,
"I do not want to talk to you." Manic
with fear, I extended one pointy-tipped shoe, tapped
the message home. My cases bulged with the wrong
clothes, every outfit trimmed with clipped
English, fit for telephone jobs on Long
Island. Rwanda, Algeria, and me
declaring every kind of independence.
My skirt and I were green, not the pretty
pistachio that Jacqueline Kennedy wore,
but the color copper develops in the sea,
cold and unfortunate, the green of storms
that have never squalled before. My hat,
gloves, and I were pale, not plush like the warm
blonde women settling in their seats
and bubbling dipthongs ...