my mother bought my dead father a shirt.
years ago,
when i was visiting her,
i began to clean out her closet.
they were all shirts for women,
simple,
comfortable.
then my eyes fell upon a blue buttondown.
it was soft and faded,
but never worn.
attached to the collar was a note
with a few lines inked into it
by a typewriter.
on this paper, my mother had written:
you would have looked good in this.