Tag Archives: Rag

Ode to an Old Shirt

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You were a gift
   with a slogan
   across your chest.
 
“Talk Bizarre” or
   something close —
   all that’s left,
 
After many
   detergent cycles,
   is a faded Z, and
 
Many holes,
   tears and
   sagging neck.
 
Once worn often
   every season,
   you performed well
 
In the manner of shirts —
   kept out cold,
   blocked breeze,
 
Shielded skin
   from sun,
   sponged up sweat.
 
But “Bizarre” gave you
   a long life
   and many conversations,
 
That was your
   unique attribute,
   your elixir of youth.
 
And now, wet
   with soapy water,
   you push and pull
 
Across a filthy car,
   Z forgotten,
   no longer bizarre,
 
Suffering the
   mundane fate
   of a rag.