circus no purpose

Once upon a time ago, when clothes were made by hands that sew,

and stitched in cloth

with threads not fine,

were messages to

the great divine.

Before committees scratched their heads

and made our clothes with broken threads, there were bones

to share and bread to make and a pot of soup from which to take.

How would it be,

if we could say,

in the shopping mall

of life today,

  "I would like to buy a memory. Custom cut

and sewn on me.

With back up batteries embroidered on,

and lips that whisper

how the past

moves on."