Monday, November 12, 2012


I was wearing my father’s sweatshirt
the one his father wore
I pulled it on
I pulled it off
You were sitting with me on some stoop
and I was reciting some speech
about how you should have shown up sooner
You didn't argue
You apologized
and agreed to never be late again
Later when I was alone
I pulled out my yellow sweatshirt
the one with the stains and the stencils
of the boy with his hands in his pockets
and the two hearts hanging overhead
I have been wearing it ever since
my thumbs tucked into the tears of its cuffs

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