No Kings

 For some reason, 50501 organizers have asked attendees to wear yellow. 

 A half century ago, I owned a chrome yellow satin blouse with full sleeves and three button cuffs. It zipped up the back to a high collar and fit like skin. With black jeans a pretty nifty outfit.

There was a party. I was standing in a crowded room with a drink in my hand and happened to catch a glimpse of myself reflected in a glass door. I looked like a BRIDGE OUT sign. I was mostly averse to wearing yellow after that. But then I thought about it and looked through the pictures and there I was with my pale yellow fuzzy Angora boobs,  my head in the boyfriend's lap right after we announced our engagement on Christmas morning. He loved that sweater.

Yesterday, a brief look to the closet proved nothing yellow. I might bring these creatures along as Guardians.