Suits
Suits
I started work in an office, wore a suit that was cheap
and too small. They stuck me in a backroom that had
mustard coloured walls and no sunlight.
I sorted and filed bills that had been paid, and I never
understood the point of it. Yet it was one up from my
father, he worked for the council digging trenches by
spade- yes it was long ago- when it was hot he wore no
shirt muscular and tanned women sighed.
My father was married five times and died doing push ups;
or so mother said. After a year I understood i was not
going to be promoted, became radicalized and joined
the merchant navy. In New York I bought a splendid suit that
had enormous shoulder padding, I went to the office in
the hope of getting a proper job, a woman there gave me her
phone number, like I should be for hire!
The suit I have I wore seven years ago at a wedding in Brussels
a man of sixty five was getting married to a woman too young
for him. They were happy for six years then he couldn´t get it
up and in despair topped himself.
I will wear my suit if someone invites me to a party; it hasn´t
happened yet, I suppose it will not, old men, unless they are
rich, find themselves alone most of the time...
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2014
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