learning the ropa

Used clothes are
A detriment to hands

Blood sweat and pricks on the loom

i have felt badly in the past
why not now

racks of clothes are like crowded squares at bad concerts
it’s only a matter of mousetraps before theirs
and there’s dogshit on your sole

I felt badly
(like an ingrate at Christmas? Perhaps…)
about these threads that hang there
no chests to fill their insides
lifeless in the sex dance

there are blowouts in these bubblegum aisles
shouting matches in the fitting room
someone runs away with scabies but pays

for amazement to stand in the mirror

it’s about body doubles

and brides apparently

bribes and the cars they sit shotgun in

her smile is a violation of a handicapped parking space,

and the weather could use a comb