Curated Costumes

Curated Costumes

Saturdays we climbed into a canary Cadillac--

my great grandmother

my great aunt

my grandmother and

my mother.

Each handed me a dollar as I buckled in the velour seats,

tickets for thrift store treasures

and the freedom to define myself amongst the racks.

My first purchase,

 a leather purse

eggplant purple

with a gold zipper and

a worn down lipstick

Revlon’s Lilac Mist.

My grandmother demanded

I throw it out

Instead of the trash can

I slid it into my pocket.

I savored my glamorous secret

dreamed of the woman

who carried a purple purse

and lined her lips with Lilac Mist.

Hours lost in imagination

Conjuring epic accessorized evenings

and acid wash denim days,

a treasure trove of stories,

thrifted and woven.

The eggplant purse, like my fellow thrifters—

are long gone—

I wander thrift stores alone

on Fridays

searching for stitches of stories

in pockets

on tags

in the seams

a welcome distraction.

I carry these stories--

secondhand and my own

stitched together tightly.

Each morning, I paint material masterpieces

textile trickery framed.

Moth holed cashmere in perfect pastels

disguises the mania rising.

Bold colored perfumed polyester

distracts from depression.

Curated costumes for the grand performance of living.

Read at Improbably Poetry Tour, 2018