Do you ever feel like a shirt,
With wooden clips pinning your shoulders to the line,
Left blowing in the wind to dry,
With your colors bleaching under blue sky?
Do you ever feel like a sock,
Bought extra in a pack of three,
Left in the crease of a washing machine,
Each cycle bringing swirls of new dirt and clean?
Do you ever feel like a blazer,
Complementing a blue button up,
With fitting cuffs level with the first thumb,
And a flower-pinned lapel smelling sweet as plum?
Do you ever feel like fresh underwear,
Sought out like the last clean pair,
Slipping on with ease with only a folding crease,
And fitting the form of hips with fleeting Tide whiffs?
I feel everything,
I am a shirt that is both clean and dirty,
Cycling through the laundry each week,
Tidying myself for a new day,
Getting dirty the same day.
Mason Belue is a medical student at UAMS.