Hey, You!

Hey, you! I see you at about quarter to nine every day near 27th Street and Gillham. And every time, I ask: What’s up with the dress? Yes, I know for priests it’s called a robe. But with you walking as fast as you do, that flowing black fabric looks like it was cut to be a farm girl’s sundress. Oh, and the hat! It curls off the side of your head like a Christmas ribbon that’s been hairsprayed in place. I applaud your dedication to no-emission commuting. I’ve seen you even on rainy days, trudging along with a matching black umbrella. You’re usually just a few blocks from Our Lady of Sorrows. And I have to wonder: Is the church a sorrowful place because y’all have to wear those dresses and ribbon-hats? If it helps, maybe it’s worth keeping the dress at work and commuting in, say, a pair of Dockers.