Born in a generation whose grandmother stored her used tea-bags in the fridge forweeks on end
The day came when after 22 years of most happy use
(New York clubbing and life on a short fuse)
my favorite plaid cashmire jacket expired!
Ohhhh, I tried to save it: I sought out a most talented seamstress
and gaited in her atelier with bulging wallet
but after careful examination of the inside out
a 'nay' verdict was extolled.
Home I went flat and wobble-footed
sapped of courage -to dispose to waste to trash this jacket
such a step was offset or suspended in Time
so for weeks it stayed at the bottom of my laundry hamper.
One day having rented a cocker named Rocky
I layed rugside on my back
The Rock came to investigate
This underside view offered ears flapping and
eyes bloodshot, a meal perhaps in mind
Eurika! I bolted to the edge of the universe
reaching deep into the hamper I pulled out my jacket
and draped it over the canine's velvet bed.
Was it time for a solar eclipse? I hesitated and
went to clean the windows.
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