1 Poem by
Alec Kowalczyk
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OFF THE RACK
it was one of those throwback places
a men's clothing shop
on the bottom floor
of a 3 story building
sandwiched between similar structures
on the main street
of a once thriving city
stagnated in coils of arterial highway
inside it was as if nothing changed
dimly day lit by display windows
from the front end of a long narrow interior
there was the background aroma
of darkly polished wood
the more potent scents
of men's cologne and English leather
lingering through the carefully stocked racks
of slacks, jackets and shirts
contents and space fitting together like a glove
and by the quartersawn oak chairs
smoothly worn by decades of patrons
there stands the old man
cloth measuring tape ever ready around his neck
a slightly built man
his tread mighty upon the uncarpeted floorboards
greeting with his usual quip
"I won't get all over you like a cheap suit"
he draws the overhead pullchains one by one
casting discrete islands of incandescent light
revealing 2 pairs of pants to each suit
creases made more crisp by shadow etching
guiding the way to the rear of the shop
under the sculptured tin ceiling
reinforcing the store's tunnel-like ambiance
and after properly sizing you up
he invites you to slip
into the shiny unspoiled lining
of a brand new sports jacket
piquing that incomparable feeling
that most fleeting of pleasures
soon to be lost in the wearing
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