rubygardenia

i like mayer hawthorne, saffron-infused gin and sundresses. i bought an especially cute one in savannah for 20$ along with a slightly ill-fitting pair of vintage sandals. there was a beautiful red-headed girl in a caribbean blue sundress that helped me. her skin was as translucent as milk glass and her waist impossibly narrow. i imagined her ribcage and how her lungs must feel in a sternum so compact. i'm barrel-chested, myself. a boy in striped socks and silly lace up oxford shoes came to meet her. he slid his arm around her waist and it made me catch my breath.

i liked savannah. i took a tour of the telfair museum with miss onnie, the head docent. it used to be a spinster's home long ago, a spinster who was so intent on not letting her heathen distant relatives get their common hands on it that she insisted it become a museum for the good of savannah. good for you, mary telfair. and thank you. i walked through the quiet of it with my fingers tucked into my lips, something i always do when i'm happy and awestruck. i've never seen american art like it, not even at the met. La Madrilena with her tender face and The Black Prince with its medieval scale and history. Miss Onnie made me promise not to tell but when they were transporting a few of the statues they got caught in the rain and as she said, "they ended up with a lot of sand." Proof that tragedy befalls even the most well-intentioned. Proof that even our best things could be lost and no one might ever know or think to care.

maybe i'm too concerned with history. in more modern news, i wish my hair would grow. long and fast and barbie-like. and i love the springtime. i cut blossoms from trees and tuck them into old teacups in my kitchen window.