My Green T. Shirt
My t. shirt is a collection of holes. It’s green and comfy and breezy. It has a pattern like a faded carving, and a neck hole that’s stretched from 10,000 wearings.
It lives at the bottom of the third drawer, only coming out when it’s warm. It seems to be at odds with its neighbours, smothered by their fullness and cottony weight.
My t. shirt is a relic, a throwback to the past. It comes out when there is no-one to see or meet or be polite with. It mows the lawn, cuts the the hedge, fixes bikes.
When I wear it I am independent, scruffy, my own person. It is a disguise that I enjoy.
Justin Neal
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