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Show The White Suit 65 faded the flowered wool, fed on i t s color. And the table...the table has one dark circle where the geranium and i t s clay pot sat for sunning. The flower grew and died. The surrounding table bleached white. The whiteness is tight; i t rings when i t is tapped, the sound of crystal. And when the sun sets, the lady sees a star, pure flame burning i t s e l f to death. White. A bride with cloth shoes and a spray of baby's breath braided into a crown. Sanitized bathroom sinks and toilets with an unbroken strip of paper winding around the seat. Space infused with light in an empty room free of impurities. Multitudes dressed in a f t e r l i fe white to greet the newcomer who parts the v e i l , the redeemed in white neckties, awash in a sea of foam. White buttons on the baby's christening gown. A fish's belly, hospital sheets. Livid white. Lips tight with anger, knuckles clenched. White hair drained of pigment and imagination. The cheeks of a dead person. And the lady rides again, the lady in white on a white horse. A white rabbit hesitates at the edge of the road. The lady reins the horse and three albinos greet one another-a rabbit and horse with pink eyes, a lady with rose-tinted lenses to protect her eyes from the white sun and the stars "Classy," that's what Anthony said when he saw her in the white suit for the f i r s t time. "A classy lady." He knew. "He's my cousin," she said because she f e l t crazy and because people believed her in white. |