Category: acceptance

~

He remembers the corduroys 

that whistled when he ran away 

from his mother and her hairbrush.

~

Then later, dungarees, 

rolled up at the bottom, 

when he wanted to look tough,

and pegged chinos, 

black with a belt in the back, 

when he wanted to look cool.

~

At his local college, 

to let people know he’d worked Out West,

he wore frayed Frisco Jeans 

with a faded circle on the left back pocket

where he stuck his tin of smokeless tobacco.

~

As an English teacher, 

he wore striped bell bottoms, 

along with double-breasted sports coats, 

and paisley ties with matching pocket handkerchiefs, 

his armor against feeling incompetent.

~

To become a writer, 

he decided he must have khakis

because the New Yorker ad 

said Kerouac wore them.

~

He switched to cargo pants

to enhance his image 

of poet, pilgrim, seeker,

setting forth on the Camino de Santiago,

with all those pockets.

~

Until, proud to proclaim

his waist size hadn’t changed

in over forty years,

he made sure his pants

had elastic waist bands

to go around an expanding gut.

~

These days, however, 

he’s discovered sweatpants, 

because they’re comfortable 

and he no longer 

gives a rat’s ass what he looks like.

~