Old Clothes

This decade
you adore?
I wasn’t around for it.

I was born in time to see it,
was here for all ten of its years,
but I missed it completely.

Where I was, 
we were living 
differently.  

We didn’t have
the luxury of it.
Didn’t know

the slang of it.
Didn’t wear
the style of it.

Whatever
you loved of it
washed right past us

while we were staying
up late with 
occupying forces

and famines.
We made do,
got by.

We were not
part of
the fabulousness.

So I don’t know
your markers,
your symbols,

your retro chic.
When you say
what I’m wearing

is some geeked out
cool, ghetto
fabulous, hipster

sacred — well,
this is what I brought 
with me to this place.  

I had no idea
that this was
worthy of note;

it’s just some
of the little I saved.
So be it, then.  Well and good.

But I cannot help
but think that 
had you been present 

in my decade
instead of yours,
these words you use

to explain old clothes
would not be part
of your vocabulary now.