[I guess this should be filed under "based on a true story"]
My Sunday clothes never fit well.
They were either a size too big
or a size too small.
They were usually wool and scratchy.
On days when my Mom didn’t have the energy to stop me,
I would wear sweat pants underneath.
My sweatpants always had holes in them,
but they were comfortable.
Wool suits with clip-on ties
over deteriorating cotton sweat pants.
The perishable was swallowed up
by the imperishable.
I wish my Mom would’ve had more energy.