The Man Who Didn't Care About Clothes

I put on your shirt this morning
The blue one with the red buttons
That I used to call your clown shirt

I put on your shirt and your jeans
The ones that fit me better than you
The ones you tossed at me as if
They were a punishment
Rather than a gift

I put on your baseball cap
That didn’t belong to any team
The one you wore when your hair
Was less than stellar

These were the clothes you wore
When you didn’t want anyone to see you
I thought maybe they’d help me disappear
But instead they smell like you
And I disappear into old ethereal photographs
Residing solely in my mind’s album

You used to comment on my clothes
My choice of sweater in warm weather
Sneakers for formal affairs
Black tie for no reason
Red tie with an otherwise soothing outfit
Khakis when they were clean
V-necks when I felt confident
Cowboy boots to make you laugh
Turtlenecks to hide the marks you’d give me
When you were feeling playful

This is what I think about
When I step in your clothes

I put on the outfit that would take you three hours
Before you’d settle on it
It was like the lover you’d call when all the others were out
Or busy, or disinterested
Then you’d call out that old outfit and it would always serve you well

I put on the black track pants
That you’d wear around the house
And the muscle shirt for boys with no muscle
Cooking mac and cheese and homemade pizza
Getting in touch with your Italian roots, I suppose
Aside from the mac and cheese

This was your Sunday least

Your Sunday best being the black jacket
Still hanging in my closet
A little big on you, bigger on me
The pants that were tailored especially for you
And a belt that costs more
Than a reasonable person would pay for something
That simply holds up specially tailored pants

But you were not a reasonable person

I put on your pajamas and stand in front of the bathroom mirror
They feel warm and yet, surprised
That someone is actually wearing them again
They never stayed on long
You looked so cute in them
I always savored the moment of seeing you in them
Before they inevitably were torn off
And now seeing them on me
I’m shocked they’re still intact

I put on your work uniform
With your name tag
That says ‘Gus’
Wondering why you picked that random false name
Out of all the random false names
You told me people at your store use
Rather than their real ones
Derek became Dell
Rebecca became Rosamund
Michael became M’esna
And you’d all walk around daring customers
To ask you a question
I tap the name ‘Gus’
And half-expect a magical door to appear
Leading me back into a room
Where you sit on a chaise
Drinking sherry
Saying
‘Well done’
This is something you would do

I put on the Christmas presents your family bought for you
The ones you never wore
But were too lazy to return
The shoes your mother got you that didn’t quite fit right
The shirt your brother handed down to you, pretending it was new
The polo your sister bought knowing you don’t wear polos
I put them all on and laugh at how ridiculous you would have looked
In any of these things
The clown shoes could have gone with your clown shirt
This makes me laugh even more
The hand-me-down looks terrific with your formal dress pants
If you’re going to an asshole convention
The polo would have made you look like an economics major at a state school
And I would never have given you my number

I mix and match with fervor
As if mating the clothes
To create new versions of you on me
To replace what isn’t here anymore
An overly—though not admittedly—conservative man
A man I loved

A man who always took great care in how he looked

And so how unfair that while running to get milk
You were wearing nothing but an unbuttoned button-down
Dirty jeans you pulled out of the hamper
And sandals we bought on Cape Cod
How unfair that these items should be your last
That a man robbing a store
Would see you walk in
Panic
And fire at so unflattering a man

What harm could a man in dirty jeans and sandals cause?

I remember curling up in your biggest t-shirt
Luckily one you had worn the night before
To a function at your work
The cologne still lingered to the fabric
But soon my tears washed away any scent
And I thought I was going to sob so hard and heavy
That I would inhale the shirt and everything else in your closet
Each one pulled down on top of me
Until I was hidden beneath a pile of things
That belonged to a man
Who no longer existed

Insanity is merely wearing on a smile when you should be wearing a frown.

A week ago
After the earthquakes of life
Ceased to rumble
I got up out of bed
And started trying on clothes
Your clothes

And somehow standing there
In front of full-length mirrors
In front of bathroom mirrors
In front of dresser mirrors
With your sundries lined up
Still, right underneath me

I felt like I could do this
I could go out
I could continue
I could progress

I could take off your clothes
Put on my own
Hear you laugh at your love
The man who didn’t care about clothes

And I could laugh, too
Standing in your clown shirt

Ready to take it off
And put on something else