My Underpants

A well worn white shirt hangs off of me
Cotton, elastic neckline
And sky blue boxers, thin fabric, little metal snaps
Two white tags, just beneath the wash instructions
They say, "Made and manufactured in Taiwan."
In a city I can't find on a map
Born into the hands of a young illiterate girl
Working for slave wages
Sticky, invasive heat
In a dirty little sweatshop
They sailed over the sea
Between crates of over-ripe bananas
And red and white checkered umbrellas
Carried by train across the Colorado River
Into a dingy brown Wal-Mart
Worn in, stained with blood and sweat
Still in a little plastic baggy
These underpants have been halfway around the world
These underpants have seen difficult things
These underpants have a history all their own
An invisible thread, woven into the seat
When your underpants have seen more of the world than you have
They sometimes tend to feel a bit big,
Even if they always do stay up

DKE