I Remember Velour


I remember velour,
	in the nighttime
	imagining its flowery pattern
	smelling Grandma's cigarette smoke
	eating ice cream and milk,
	"Honey, get my teeth for me."
I remember velour.

I remember velour,
	pink, short sleeved,
	Izod 'gator emblazoned.
	Too small? I'll still wear it
	and you can't take it away.
	It went well with brown corduroy
	and black Mary Jane's.
I remember velour.

I remember velour,
	Buffalo in Phoenix, not Springfield.
	I think those skirts were
	direct descendants
	of a sofa I once knew.
	And the only shirt that could ever match
	is gone for always.
I remember velour.