Dear Readers: Please do not receive this poem to be picking on anyone. This was written as an exercise on humor and the awkward dresser. I’m in no way trying to laugh at those less fortunate or those with a unique sense of dress. Thank you for your kind understanding.
Standing in the corner with your camouflage pants too big for the small frame of your body. Everyone silently snickers at your tumbleweed head of hair. You are oblivious to the stench you carry, or maybe you enjoy it, which may be the reason you chose the corner seat. All eyes are on you for there are so much to stare at. We start to wonder if you came in on a dare. Either way, there is nothing else that compares to the disheveled appearance you proudly dawn. We can’t stop glaring at your plaid, polka dotted disaster of a shirt. Even the lowly seeing eye dog is covering his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, someone will take pity on you and your entire wardrobe and give you a makeover, but not before you visit with a nice hot shower for all of our sakes. We’d surely love to see you back, although, wait a minute, we won’t recognize you. Surely, we can live with that as long as the old you is never seen again. It’s been so awkward not dining with you. Please please don’t come again.
By Felina Silver Robinson