by Camilla Jean Welsch
Today, there were $5 garments
for sale on the street in the sun.
Mostly jackets from the closet
of a deceased octogenarian, I imagined
because they smelled of the clean, delicate soap bars
that had accompanied them in the closet:
a loose, neon-green with black sequins trainer;
a Japanese-style, three-quarter-length blazer
with massive flowers and oversized white plastic buttons…
the kinds of things that would nowadays
look fashionable on a 33 year-old
walking across 77th, passing Broadway
on the way to the park, on a Saturday in spring.
Oh, to be there like that again!
Big city flowers… big city buttons…
and a hanging sleeve on a pale, jaunty wrist,
maybe accompanied by orange bakelite bangles
… OK, but only if you insist.