Not Lesbians

Two femmes, gauntly fit in the prime of adulthood. Short, professional cut on one. The other bore crisp brown curls. Are they lesbians? A question birthed of weariness from I, my hips slouched against the speckled pattern of the countertop. One approached, and I knew at once the truth. It was the shorter-haired of the two, also short on curves and cuteness, which, believe me, is no large insult. It was, of course, in her eyes: the irreplaceable glint, that weird flame within some women that burns all who smell and taste its acrid smoke. This is not to say that lesbians are not crazy- there are certainly some demented ones out there- , but there is a certain breed of straight white woman that shatters the legends and forges new ones, circulated among moose lodges and taverns globewide. She spoke: 'Do you have skim milk?' For sure, I was right.