But with my thrift store
mentality, I didn't mind buying used--
(there's something very cozy
about things that are broken in)
long as it looked like
it would stand up to the
wear and tear.
One day she said to me:
Why are you with me?
I'm such a whore.
I like whores, I said.
She gave me a look of utter incredulity.
But if she had thought about it,
even a little,
she would have figured that out
the third time we visited
the Salvation Army store.
