A rememberance of my long past 15 seconds of fame...

My Favorite Shirt

The black was so black my white skin sank inside it. There were red strawberries on it – tiny red flocked things. Not strawberries – hearts. I ran my fingers over them as I sang.

It was my sexy semi urban cowboy unbuttoned to the bottom of my breasts shirt.

I was red hot as the hearts on that black black shirt on stage every single night I stepped up there into the lights and touched that microphone with my fingers my hands my lips and sometimes my teeth in whacking emotional intensity when I wasn’t looking at how far the mic was from my face cause I was so lost in the song and the music and the freedom of it all – and the silky sliding touch of my black black shirt.

It still fits.