I have these clothes,
certain clothes, that I
worry about. I worry they
may be unlucky.
I stand in front of my closet and
look in on the shirts hanging and
try to decide if one shirt is
less lucky than another.
Was I wearing this shirt the last
time I got laid? Or was this the
shirt that bore witness to the
breaking of my heart?
There are certain socks,
boxers, tee-shirts, sweaters,
that can’t be worn together
because the combination is unlucky.
It isn’t about matching or
coordinating, it’s about apparel fate.
Is this an unlucky pair of socks? Will
things go my way in these pants?
Was I wearing this when so and so
died? Were these boxer shorts
responsible for that
Did she love me in these pants?
Will this shirt repel the object of my
Will I be wearing these socks when I
kick the bucket?
It’s hard to get dressed some days,
when a few outfits have some
unlucky memories attached to them.
Maybe I should dress in the dark.
Although I’d probably trip over something
on the floor and stumble into
a wall and crack my head open
and bleed to death.
“Damn unlucky socks,” would say the
paramedics who arrive seven
days later to find my corpse
crumpled on the floor.
“If only he had been barefoot,”
another paramedic would say.
Then they’d let the fire men in
to burn all the cursed clothing.
I look at my clothes like talismans,
they either help me or they hinder me
and it’s completely irrational and
makes me wonder how I got that way.
But then, I’m not wearing a
lucky shirt today, so of course
I’d think that. A lucky shirt wouldn’t
worry about it at all.
I’ll wear a lucky shirt
and things will be different,
unless the socks are unlucky.