by Glen Martin Fitch

I fix the Windsor knot
just like my dad.
You said "Oh, no!
The style is now the half."
Debated often
I would not get mad
I hid my meek defiance
with a laugh.
I found the perfect tie
for you today.
Your colors,
flashy, playful but not bold.
I set it down
but couldn't walk away.
So strong the urge
I bought it just to hold.
It's shop until you drop
then shop some more,
but now by proxy
as it were, on cue.
The last tie I picked out
you did adore.
Like dad
I won't see it again or you.
Enough of fantasy,
denial and lies,
I know the truth is
dead men tie no ties.


Glen Martin Fitch's picture

Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."

Last updated August 23, 2011