DRESS CODE > POETRY
He put on his only suit
and begrudgingly threw
my ripped jeans onto
the bed, kissing my forehead
with the annoyed look
of an upper middle-class jerk
mad at the beggar he
just gave a dollar to
after remembering
the stripper down Palm Avenue
whose G-string he could have
snuggled that bill into
later on this evening—
If only he hadn’t spent it already.
It’s okay, baby.
You can write it off as charity.
I hear that compassion
is the latest untapped market
soon to have its own ticker symbol—
better buy plenty and early.
Maybe you could call it
a business expense.
Shannon Clem (she/they) has cleaned toilets, bussed tables, worked film sets, ran retail, & is now disabled. Still, she manages. Shannon’s work may be seen in Beaver Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Hunger, Versification Zine, Warning Lines, various anthologies, & other publications. Find them online @shannontantrum & shannontantrum.com.