2002-11-29
11:37 a.m.
because i obviously had too much free time on my hands, i wrote a fake-serious poem about my gloves... lament for my gloves it was a cold february morn�
when you first caught my eye.
you gave me promises of woolen warmth
from the glossy pages
of the j. crew sale catalog. i grabbed the telephone
and recited my credit card number.
two to four weeks later you arrived in my postbox,
wrapped in paper and plastic,
waiting for my cold hands. for five winters, gloves,
you hugged my hands
and kept them safe from the bitter winter chill,
managing all the while
to stay fashionable. when your fingertips wore thin,
i took up needle and thread
and lovingly tended to your gaping wounds
because i could not bear
to see you so sad. but needle and thread could
only mend you so much.
i knew when it was time to lay you to rest,
though it was hard
for me to let you go. i have new gloves this winter--
purchased from old navy.
though their fleece is cozy and inviting,
they only warm my hands.
you still warm my heart.
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