The Dream

Well hello there, chic ones.
Hello to the vacuum cleaner, the telephone beret-maker, the king of the united group of monocles, the dogs barking down the street (please shut up), the man takes out my old telephones that have evaporated, the doll maker--

Dolls.

Last night I had a dream about dolls. I was there, in the closet that we had in the 70's. Flowers everywhere. Terrible glasses. Hairy chests. That's enough to make a man lose his mind.
But then, in the dream, plastic dolls of the fashion crowd came out- they surrounded me. Little shiny human dolls; with cartoon voices. "Hello darhling" one squeaks.
And then.....and then the DEMODE dolls start to come out--

Fat dolls, ugly dolls, poor dolls. Fatties! Obese dolls! And they come to get me...walk into the closest and...and....and...they melt into a big pile of demode plastic.

And then the big Andre Leon Talley comes in; life sized, but plastic. And he's wearing this hideous Hawaiian shirt.