A Poem by Wilson Oryema

We met at the local [redacted]
I usually don’t find myself in the bargain aisle

Flanked by the unpleasing and disorderly
You stood out like couture in the rubbish pile
Or non plastic packaging in the fresh produce aisle

A longing glance
A speedy gait
A light tap

You were mine
Mine were yours

It was a beauty to behold

Boundaries learned
Conditions tested

The sunlight wore at our foundations
The spin cycle washed away the remains
And what remained could not be saved

So I bid you adieu
As I toss you into the chute
And head back to the high street
In search of pastures new

Hopefully I can find a shirt that lasts more than a week or two
If counting, this might be attempt 352

Maybe i should go with quality in mind
And not, “buy cheap in case i later change my mind”

— An example of what we shouldn’t do