Sleeves That Don’t Fit

Every Sunday this summer is reserved for poetry (or Monday I haven’t decided yet).

I feel weird being back in Calgary
even if it is for a week
and a bit.

It is less trying a new food weird
and more I’m wearing a shirt I bought when I was 19 weird.

The type of shirt you buy
when you think your fashion sense crystallizes at 19.
Something you believe will be a staple in your wardrobe forever
in reality it was a quick fad.

The colours never looked right on you
except you were colour blind when buying it.
Maybe it was to impress someone you liked
or you thought it was a perfect going out shirt
or maybe you just made a poor life decision.
It happens.

You grab it now because it’s familiar.
It’s an inside joke only you know
but what good is an inside joke
no one else will get?

You grab it even though it has shrunk up and down
and stretched out east to west.
The sleeves end an inch or two
too short.
The seams on the shoulders hang too loose
or too tight
depending on where your arms are.
Wearing it feels like trying to tame the ocean.

The shirt isn't even good for sleeping
it’s itchy in all of the places you can’t reach.

There are loose threads everywhere
but you never bother to cut them loose.
What’s the point
you cut off one thread
two more take it’s place.

But you refuse to depart with it
even though you never bring it with you after you leave.
So it stays in your closest
or the bottom of your laundry basket
or on the floor waiting for someone else to pick it up.

No one else will.
Your scent on it is too strong.
The smell of a simple time
when the world didn't make 100% sense
but more sense than it does now.

Only when you bring it with you
and wear it around where no one has time for inside jokes
does someone ask
Why are you wearing that?

Why not?

Does it fit?

Nope. It never did.