Tighty Whitey Day
feeling stand offish
a clique or crew.
I am pale no color or tone
smell like urine and tide
surrounded by gear
just taking my cue.
The light comes in up high
blinding or inviting
should I stake my claim,
but Joe Boxer snarls my way.
I thought I might cry
though nothing exciting
nothing but shame
once again not my day
The week is at an end
The crew is all but gone,
though fruit is looming
with a new color and style.
Alone now, here comes the light again
you must be putting me on.
Nutty needs grooming
I tuck in nutty so nutty won't look vile
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Comments about this poem (Tighty Whitey Day by Vincent Tinto )
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