photo credit: Nikos Koutoulas
Richie McCaffery
Gil-Martin
Growing up, most of my clothes
were at the very best second hand.
Some of the shirts and jackets
still carried old owner’s names
sewn into the scruff of the neck.
Gil-Martin
Growing up, most of my clothes
were at the very best second hand.
Some of the shirts and jackets
still carried old owner’s names
sewn into the scruff of the neck.
I’d go to school in George’s best shirt,
in winter wear Robert’s cenotaph coat.
As a teenager, I’d leave dirty clothes
strewn, as if there’d been a wild orgy
of a party somewhere in the near past,
where the owners of the clothes
had gotten so drunk they’d forgotten
all about themselves, even their names.
I remained the host, but was dressed
as all of my dearly departed guests.