If you own an old body
and arrive at your front door
on your trike
having been to
the wood working shop —
and your T shirt
is wet with sweat
and has saw dust
ensconced in its fabric —
and you have a wife
who is the enemy of dirt —
you dismount your trike
and seek to extricate yourself
from your T shirt.


You find this task daunting
and hope there are no neighbors
witnessing this struggle
which  feels embarrassing.


At  last your torso shackles
are eliminated
and you are a free man.


As far as I could tell
no one was looking.
as I  shook out
that damn damp shirt.

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