Two yards.
Hemmed,
with a curve
in front.
At least the batch
I have so far.
Next time they will
be even simpler,
a straight front
that won’t pucker.
That is my optimism
at work. Truth is,
I can’t find silk.
Only one fabric store
left in town,
no one sews any
more, and I’ve
used all of their
silks that I like.
Stock does not change
often.
There is another store
I can drive to
that has lots of silk,
but it’s fancy silk,
unsuitable for every day,
too dressy
in its look,
and too expensive.
I wear my silk
to wash dishes
and clothes,
to tidy up
and market,
for the grungiest work
I change,
but not until I have
to.
I like the way silk
drapes between
my legs
when I am driving,
its fluid motion.

The financial guru
only has one pair
of earrings
and I forget if it is
one suit
or two.
I’m not quite
as self-limiting
as that,
my number is
always three.

Peace Pilgrim
had only one set
of clothes, of course.
I guess she sat
naked while they
dried,
or washed the
under and outer
at separate times.
She wore and walked
25,000 miles in navy
Keds,
it pains my feet
to think of it.
I need more shoes
with better soles
and leather that stretches
across my wide feet.
Finding shoes
that fit is always
a pilgrimage,
where am I going
with this line of thought,
my three sarongs
inspired by the nun
who traveled for three
weeks with only three saris
and said she never felt
so good,
inspired by the financial
whiz who owns two suits,
inspired by the woman
who walked the equal
of around the earth
with one pair of Keds.

10/23/02