poster child.
bullshirt
at first it was fun.
she’d raise her hands and cheer,
they’d let her hop on,
and the mechanical bull
would try to throw her
out of her shirt.
now, on her fifth go around with the thing,
young girl verses robot bull,
shitfaced, phoning it in, topless,
i have to wonder if there’s a point
to any of this, and if there is,
WHAT IS IT?
tees are in your skies
the sky is raining tee shirts.
i’m serious, aren’t i?
for two days it’s been doing this.
believe me, the weatherman is embarrassed,
presumed fired.
poly-cotton blends. stripes to plaids.
100% cotton. 100% polyster.
sleeveless to long-sleeve. v-neck to…
whatever neck a normal tee shirt has.
winter’s over, but the trees and fields
are blanketed with the blinding white of plain-white tees,
as telling of the times as the first snow.
people are watching from their windows.
they’re running through the streets.
they are dying in falling tee shirt-related car crashes.
the damndest thing is,
no matter how extra large or extra small you are,
it never seems to rain your size.
after a while, i decide to venture out to the mall
assuming it must be chaos there.
i enter my favorite store,
where i worked the summer i turned sixteen,
and there’s a sale going on:
“buy one, look good doing it.”