Friday, November 18, 2005

On Seeing Myself in a Restaurant

How did I become
an American Gothic icon?
I thought I was young
and fashionable forever.

I guess I hang out
in the local cafe
where my neighbors eat
mashed potatos and wear baseball caps.

I wear my cap as my face
and the face of my wife in her babushka
suck the prairie dust and shrivel
under the years. My hair lightens.

I have become a classic
in my daily clothes because I
never want to dress up.
You will see me with my poor taste.

I don't look any better
when I put on the dark blue suit
that I stored away
before you were born.


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