To the working woman of New York
Carrying your pumps to work, fluffing open the New York Times, steady hand applying mascara on the unsteadiest of vehicles! Full of that potential one can only have before the 9-5 Grind.
Repeated gestures betray habits and hobbies. The way she licks the pacifier before plugging her wailing infant’s mouth. Unhooking her umbrella from her skirt, narrowly avoiding disaster. Brushing her dress over the back of her thighs before sitting down to avoid the dreaded ass-to-plastic.
Goddess of the highest order
She is solid as a rock, cast in stone and clad in synthetic fibers. Determined to set her graceful jaw against the harsh city and place her elegant nose to the grindstone.