-hand-me-downs-

a permanently stained pair of pants

but she said the stain’s at the crotch

so nobody will see it,

two thread-worn, button-up sweaters
woven with images of bears
with side-pockets so shallow and weak
they couldn't hold anything and

sneakers without space inside for another

drop of sweat.

the shirts are too big and yellow as nicotine.

these items were stuffed in a damp
corrugated box
carried by my aunt Olympia, called "Lee"

from next door, through the yards and

into our kitchen, then plopped
upon the table's oilcloth where we’d eat.

my little brother would have to wait
for his hand-me-downs.
but my older sister would be driven

downtown to the fancy Cherry & Webb.

my older cousins and their friends

handed the park and its corner

of Bedford and Stinziano down to us.

they handed-down the spoils of the Junkyard

waiting through the backyards
beyond the grapevines and the meadows.

but leaving the great department store
with a bundle of sweaters and a new dress,

with her hand slipped into her mother’s,

my sister, with an appearance and attitude

handed-down to her from someplace
in the distance I couldn't reach,

looked straight ahead and walked
to the open backdoor of the Buick
where it sat at the curb
with its engine running.

In Quequechan