mama always said to be sure to wear clean
underwear,
she didn’t want anyone to think badly of us for the
shit stains in our draws, just in case we got hurt
she didn’t want the nurses in the emergency room
to talk about what a bad mother she was for not washing
our clothes till they were clean,
jeans and work shirts could be dirty, that showed a man
worked hard for his money,
but dirty underwear would tell everyone the truth about us,
like a hidden indictment proving us somehow less than the
common man,
that maybe we were bad, criminal, touched by the finger of
fate or lost in the bottom swill of humanity,
it’s not important anymore—I stopped wearing underwear.
J. Masuda © 2005