I was pretty sure this was the place.
Had it been dark out, I could have easily missed it.
Behind the coffee shop, and around the corner from the tattoo studio,
it was small, and (yet) indiscreet.
I pulled into the alley, between the short row of red, brick buildings,
and parked the car.
And, I am not sure if it was the way
that I was dressed,
or the desperate and determined look in my eyes,
BUT . . .
when he appeared from the back room,
he seemed to know exactly what I had come for.
He showed me his stash.
"This is IT?" I asked.
"Everybody wants some," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
I stood back, assessing the size, shape, and quality of his goods.
"Do you have anything . . . uglier?" I asked.
"The ugliest are the first to go," he said.
"We should be getting some uglier ones in next week."
"Okay," I said. "I'll come back then."
With a nod, and half a smile, he returned to the back room.
And, as I exited through the front door,
the sign dangled to and fro.
WE HAVE UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS.