Double-Take
There’s a woman I pass in the mornings
Who prefers not to nod a hello,
Not unusual for a New Yorker;
That’s the way that these things often go.
She seems close to my age, but walks slower
And her clothing is baggy and loose,
Unlike most of us out there with leggings,
Which she’d likely not wear, I deduce.
Yet this morning I passed her and noticed,
As I swiveled for a double-take,
That her t-shirt was very familiar
And quite certainly not a mistake.
For it once nestled, folded quite nicely,
In a drawer with the rest of my tees,
But I’d donated it to the thrift shop
Where I bring things that no longer please.
I was glad to see somebody wear it
Who’d appraised it with different eyes,
Yet I wondered why I hadn’t kept it
As an exercise shirt in my size.
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