BARGAINS
Elisavietta Ritchie
Did parsimony begin when my mother
insisted redheads should not wear red,
and she bought me dresses in avocado,
ocher and brown, too well-sewn to wear out.
She fitted me into glistening oxfords
when scuffed saddle shoes or loafers
with pennies were in. At the prom,
ridiculous ruffles covered my throat.
Always I've bought the Edsel,
off-brand computers that won't compat,
thrift shop clothes with the ghosts
of their owners still playing tricks.
I've rented old houses that slip apart
beam by beam, bought third-hand boats,
fibreglassed their porous hulls
while mice spun the sails into lace.
For my second wedding I've bought
second-hand silver spike heels
and a decollete pink faille dress.
My hair is a staunch apricot.
I've got this curious bridegroom,
a hand-me-down too, but game
to travel cut-rate with me.
Still, I worry a bit.
