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Posts Tagged ‘Navel button’


I remember the night before the Running of the Cats. The sky was some shade of periwinkle, or perhaps it was cerulean. The moonlight flowed down on the treetops like fairy dust, or maybe smoke from a junior high science experiment gone bad. You turned my tea cup over to read the leaves, and pronounced that there were two sides to every story…to which I added under my breath, “more like a dozen, but who’s counting”. Later, we strolled along the stone walkway by the dark river, looking for narrow bridges to cross. I fastened the fouled anchor gold buttons of my navy wool, moth-eaten pea coat, wrapped my 5’ long striped mustard and violet scarf securely about my neck, and nibbled on a piece of spicy stout gingerbread.
“Tu me fais tourner la tête
Mon manège à moi c’est toi
Je suis toujours à la fête
Quand tu m‘prends dans tes bras
Je ferais le tour du monde
Ça ne tourn‘rait pas plus qu’ça
La terre n’est pas assez ronde
Pour m’étourdir autant qu’toi”

(By J. Constantin and N. Glanzberg)

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I am taking a break from writing, and running to the corner bodega for some chocolate. I come down the stairs, and see you both sitting in a pool of golden sunlight afternoon on the Persian carpet playing Scrabble. Your heads are bent forward in concentration over the board, with the sun pouring over your hair turning it into shining streams. A plate of sticky sweet coconut-lime bars with A hazelnut shortbread crust sits next to the Scrabble board. I grab my pea coat and ask if you need anything from the store. It is still a little warm, so I leave the antique gold buttons with anchor and rope motifs undone. You have “Anything Goes” on the stereo, and Billy Crocker and Reno Sweeney are singing “You’re The Top”. One of you wants more vowels, and the other rather grumpily wants better constenents.
“You’re the top!
You’re Mahatma Gandhi.
You’re the top!
You’re Napoleon Brandy.
You’re the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You’re the National Gallery
You’re Garbo’s salary,
You’re cellophane.
You’re sublime,
You’re turkey dinner,
You’re the time, the time of a Derby winner
I’m a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop”

(Cole Porter, 1934)
Antique Gold Buttons with Anchor and Rope Motifs

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I am sniffling in my bed with the flu. I toss and turn feverishly. If I must be sick, I’m going to look good doing it, so have coordinated my pajamas with my sheets. I am wearing in-the-navy blue jammies with red and gold anchor buttons, and my white pillow cases have anchor accents. I am drinking tea made with ginger root, lemon, honey, and cayenne, and nibbling buttered toast. My laptop is propped up on my lap, and I’m moodily watching “Annie Get Your Gun”. Annie and Frank start singing “Anything You Can Do”. I sigh.
“Anything you can do,
I can do better.
I can do anything
Better than you.
Anything you can wear
I can wear better.
In what you wear
I’d look better than you.
In my coat?
In your vest! In my shoes?
In your hat! No, you can’t!
Can you bake a pie? No.
Neither can I.
Anything you can sing
I can sing sweeter.
I can sing anything
Sweeter than you.”

(By Irving Berlin)
BUTT-PLAS-17-CLRRED30-m

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