When You Wear a Dirty Shirt

When you wear a dirty shirt, You're a book getting judged by its cover. People think you're really poor, or nutty, Or that you have a menial job. Or that you're all three of those, And then they throw in a bunch of other things too. Maybe you're a drug addict, living rough, Or a drug dealer, uncaring about the law and common decency, Existing on the margins of society. Maybe you're just a doggone slob. Maybe you have some disease. But maybe you just got the darn thing really dirty, Like dirty where there's no coming back from it. No detergent will get it all out, but then at least you don't smell bad. Maybe you came up against something ferociously, savagely dirty, Like the underside of a semi-truck trailer, Where there is a wicked layer of grease that's attracted Enough dirt to choke an entire basketball team. Not that basketball players are all that acclaimed as dirt-eaters, And you won't find most people messing about underneath semi-truck trailers, But I've done it because once in a while I drive a big truck for my employer, And when you unhook the trailer from the tractor, You have to pull the pin on the 'fifth wheel' - That's what holds the trailer to the tractor. You have to bend down low and reach in, under the front of the trailer, And that's where all that nasty dirty grease is - I mean, let me tell you - you might not even feel it, But there could be a mark on you like somebody took a wide paintbrush, Soaked in thick black paint, and just gave you a good swipe with it. Your shoulder or back could have the Mark of Cain on it, dude.... Or dudette, no sexism here, and speaking of that, There is an epidemic of people out there who need to put down their toys, And just drive their darn vehicles. Not being sexist here - it's both males and females, though it's mostly from ages 15 to 30. I mean, if you are in that age group, then there is one big honkin' chance That you are texting while you're supposed to be driving. When you drive a big truck, you see right down into all those other vehicles, You see what's going on, and they are swerving all over the darn place, And slowing down and speeding up because they can't even manage to do two things at once, And let me tell you, sports fans, it's pretty doggone irritating. Makes you want to choke them with dirt, no basketball texts required. Let's say it's one of those prissy, fancy, "society girl" types, Who spends enough money on makeup and clothes to choke a third-world country. Would be nice to raise the temperature of that cell phone up - to 500 degrees or so, really give her a surprise, or magically trade shirts with her - Suddenly she's got your filthy one on, and you've got hers on, But that wouldn't work too well for me, because then with my luck There would be some poor guy standing right in front of me, And the buttons would be popping of the girl's blouse, I mean exploding off there like death hornet projectiles Because I'm way bigger than that girl, and the poor bugger Gets his eyes put out by the buttons, ends up blind, And can't coach basketball very well any more. So.... So there....