LA CACHE CLOSE-OUT SALE, QUEEN STREET
This is the sweater I bought the day you
put your hand on my thigh. Your hand
on my thigh meant: maybe. If you weren't
driving home to someone else.
$119 marked down to 15—a steal.
All sales final. The saleslady
cut the tags so that I could wear it home.
It was cold. I was wearing a thin shirt.
It's summer now. I've had no call to wear this
sweater, no reason to think of your hand
on my thigh. Not that I regret it. It's a nice
sweater. It was a good buy.
From Cardiogram (Baseline, 2011) by Danielle Devereaux.
2 comments:
Simple, disarming and poignant poem.
Well done.
This makes me smile, albeit sadly.
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