Poem 4

Here at the Value Village
On a sale day you can tell yourself so many lies
If the discounts are deep enough you can even believe them

Or most of them

My belly doesn’t hang over the waist
too far
I have always been the kind of guy who could wear paisley – 
if I had any to wear
I’ll just tuck it in and it will be
no problem
I definitely saw a hipster wearing a jacket like this
the other day
Of course I would still buy this, if
it weren’t so cheap

The spell is broken by a yelling slash singing kid
Who thinks she is being cute but she is not being cute

Where is her mother?

Why are there so few mirrors?

Why did I get the small cart? 

Jeans the colour of Frutopia are in, right?

My stack of jeans is spilling
like a broken tap on a bottomless pop machine at Subway

The line winds around the first corner, past the leather handbags
My first skin of self-awareness slithers off
I am trying on shirts in public to save time

Finally, I get inside
Just me and the mirror

On a sale day, when money is no object
You can tell yourself so many truths
And dare yourself
To be yourself 

Photo by Clark Street Mercantile at Unsplash