Paul Belz Copyright 2014 Paul Belz
Consignmemt Shop Farewell
I let go of frayed pants, shirts so old their shapes melt,
belts ready to expire, shoes with tiny holes.
I drive Oakland’s withered streets
past gutters flowing with rotgut
where junkies huddle with the jobless,
and life giving rain turns into a curse,
and a pair of socks becomes a blessing.
Goodbye, old friends:
shirts that held me on chilled campgrounds,
sneakers that softened my feet through Tokyo
and Kathmandu, soft pants that caressed my legs
while I wrote. Battered people will love you.