My high school dean. Oh something to lust over. Or love. I witnessed a change of uniform in the parking lot of T.J. Maxx. Agoura Hills. Antiquities with at least 45 years of age. Bustling around with a respectable firm jiggle. Perhaps relics of a time that knows not of dust, not of wrinkles, not of crust. But of genuine beauty with no standard. Just the relevance of crest beauty. Making its way coincidentally into my spectrum of sight. The snuty yet kind gaze, with a strut like no other.
