Mistress Mary Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

I bought a suit
then gave that suit away.
'It goes with everything! '
so said the clerk.
Not so.
My brown belt
made the pants looked gray,
but then the black belt
somehow didn't work.
I swear by day
I'd call the color stone,
but underneath a lamp
it could be sand.
In photographs
it had a purple tone.
It seemed by plan perverse,
but just looked bland.
Please tell me
why you contradict your boss;
claim yourself vegan
at a bar-bee-que;
at 'Daddy's temple'
wear your 'Mommy's cross? '
You must know
it's a pain to be near you.
Your answer to each offer's
always 'Nope.'
Go die.
I bet your cosmic aura's taupe.