What’s In a Name

This entry is part 2 of 10 in the series The Laundry Poems


(sequel to “Because I Sort of Knew Him“)

He kept his chin up
no matter what, weathering
all weather.
from “Crushed” by Dave Bonta

When I am working, sometimes
there’s tension and frustration,
sometimes supervisors or
customers will shout at the shirt,
call its name out with a string
of expletives.

Inside the shirt, I am safely
anonymous, and protected.
No one ever actually gets
to shout at me.


When I am working, sometimes
it’s tedious and repetitive,
nothing to hold my interest, so
I pretend I am a spy working

Within my cover identity,
I then become attentive to every
thing and every one around me,
and as I occupy my mind
with this, the mindless work
gets done.


When I am working, sometimes
it is challenging, feels perhaps
a bit beyond me, overwhelming,
and I feel uncertain, hesitant.

But then I remember that I am
a superhero, and already in
my costume, my hero-name
clearly visible right there
on my lapel, and then I can
tap right in to the superpower
secrets and proceed
with confidence.


Make no mistake: I DO go
to the laundromat, and wash
my boxers, socks, and jeans.

Shirt-selections from St. Vincent’s
are more about some other things
(and a bit about not ironing).

Series Navigation← Because I Sort of Knew HimWhere the West Begins →

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