in the dream i had shaved hair sort of like Aimee Mann in til tuesday
and had chinese slippers on and was taking the bus in Narragansett
without any money or design. i somehow ended up at a green boutique
where i was chatting with Amy King and other female poets about eco feminist poetic manifestations (i still had no money) ... not sure how this all connects Myra Thibault-- but maybe i should come to NYC for New Years?