August 28, 2013

In elaborate dreams I have taken my sister to the opera in Regency London.  We are dressed the part. I keep looking down on an elegant brown sleeve and jacket. I know all the right things to say and gestures to make, and because I‘m proud of being so, I think I am probably newly rich, or newly arrived in the capital. A line of peeresses pretend to be characters in the play, holding out cups for charity in the aisle as we exit, I put two coins in a cup marked, “livelihood.” Lord Byron passes us in the aisle, nodding slightly. I remark to my sister, “Just that was worth the whole evening.”