my tees

Oh, my plain white tees, my poor delicate white tee shirts,

how you have suffered just as I have the staggering heat of summer,

and the informalities that come with such conditions, a bare stain of human odor,

perspiration and labour, an early sunshine yellow poking through the clouds,

my poor white tees, enduring the contrast of oil, of dirt, of soot.

of dirty and wet hands when there are no more paper towels,

of a face washed and rewashed, of time and grime

my poor white tees, how you have served me well

just to be some plain white tees, i thank you.