My blood-soaked sweatshirt
Was soaked by something lovely
That something was you
Sweatshirts are my favorite clothes
Warm and cuddly, comfy too
I have many as my husband knows
In red, pink, green, gray and blue
My husband has bought me a little gift
A Foghorn Leghorn orange sweatshirt
It will be my favorite if you get my drift
For the prime driver I will stay alert
My favorite sweatshirt was fluorescent orange
There was a cartoon rooster on it, Foghorn Leghorn
It was cuddly and comfy, I wore it a lot in seventh grade.
It cost me three dollars in 1964
My favorite shirt ever
I saved my own money to buy it
This was when I was making twenty-five cents an hour babysitting
When I inhale,
I still feel
a rush
I smell
The feeling:
It was more
than a crush
The touch
Was fleeting,
So why do I
Still want you
so much?
Your heart beating
I once smelled this smell
on you
But now,
that isn’t true
Just an
old
discarded
sweatshirt,
as
forgotten
as me
and you.
two sneakers frayed jeans sweatshirt with hood
thrown overnight on the floor
waiting lazily just for
another chance at glory
and story
time fame
I wear a sweatshirt because I feel hidden. Behind this sweatshirt that I wear is a symbol of me. I’m like a tree. I'm quiet I stand tall and proud. These pretty leave that I carry surround me in a leafy blanket. When my hood is up I feel safe from the outsiders. That’s why I live behind my hoodie.
while most consider einstein to be one of the most
brilliant minds
to ever have graced our human history,
there is one rumor that needs to be dispelled
when considering the man’s
wardrobe---
there are those that say he wore the same brown suit
for the majority of his life & that
he had piles of the same exact tie,
as well as the same exact socks, etc.---
the fact remains that when his wife was alive,
albert paraded around the world in
everything from “silk vests to a kimono” & though
after she died,
he did dumb it down a bit---
hating suits & socks,
he famously wandered the halls barefooted in
sandals &
his favorite big gray
sweatshirt,
and while we are eternally grateful to the man for his
contributions to
science,
one can only imagine that he held something of the same
gratitude
for the designer
of the cotton sweatshirt.
It wasn't that she couldn't read
It was just instructions she failed to heed
For on the back was a washing label
100% fact, 0% fable
Perhaps she thought it was a lie
"Drip dry" "Drip dry" "Drip dry"
Before they were washed the fit was roomy
And I would say it's safe to assumey
That deep within her Christmas heart
She longed for a gift from old Walmart
For as they tumbled in the dryer
And the heat got higher higher
A man's size large became a small
Becoming short instead of tall
Now it wasn't that she pulled a *****
The sweats just got a brand new owner
"Hello" to Kris, to Jim "Good-bye"
"Drip dry" "Drip dry" "Drip dry"
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