Monday, March 23, 2009

The clothes

Mysterious machine message
on my office phone this morning.
Digitalized female voice says:
      You are worth more than me.
      You are a pound of flesh.
      No one gives a fuck about this dress that I am.

Oh God, the clothes
have found my work number again.
It’s my summer dress feeling neglected.
It’s my wedding dress
      telling me to lay off the chocolate
            ‘cause I’m splitting her seams.
It’s the old dress I gave to the Salvation Army
      calling me up with a well-rehearsed rant
            looking for closure like an ex-lover.
I call them back but their number’s always busy.

They called from a 905 number.
All my dresses have moved out to Markham
where the street signs are calligraphy
and the girls can wear dresses all year long
because you can’t walk anywhere anyway.

1 comment:

Dorkmaster Flek said...

Don't worry, soon you and your summer dress will be reunited like long-lost lovers, sharing a passionate embrace before making loud, obnoxious sex. :)