A bargain dangles before me and I can’t resist,
Violently plowing the aisles as I search for all things thrift,
Shoeboxes obscure my vision, lethal weapons my bags,
I’ll take Macklemore and Lewis down when I’m poppin’ tags.
But when I get home a dark reality sets in,
As I now lament what seemed a fine idea then,
For these seven inch platform heels look totally great,
Not so much teetering into work or for a play date.
And these baggy genie pants that seemed the height of glamour,
May work a bit better on Barbara Eden or MC Hammer,
And consulting my wardrobe for a shirt to match these jeans,
Might be easier if they weren’t swirled with neon pink and green.
And now a scary prospect as my closet grows,
Into a no man’s land of unwanted clothes,
With bars that sag a door that bulges a site of peeling plaster,
Which vies with the worst tornadoes and hurricanes, an unnatural disaster.
And in fact, it would come as no great surprise,
If you told me it has been the taker of many great men’s lives,
As family members await their fate the day that they will learn,
If those who dared to enter my wardrobe may ever return.
And so it comes the day when I must clean out my closet,
Perhaps resulting in a trip to Goodwill with a massive deposit,
But sorting out good from the bad I realize all the while,
That what’s determined as throwaways results in a very tiny pile.
All the fashion catastrophes, the things that have no match,
Become valuable findings to which I’m emotionally attached,
For a winner never quits and so back into a drawer,
You go with all those other items that I never even wore.