Because I recently shared this one with my coworkers, who got a kick out of it.
* * *
Ideal
Apparel for a Sign Language Interpreter
Can you
help me?
Well, I
suppose you can try.
I’ve
been pawing my way through your racks,
And I
have yet to find
Anything
dull enough
To suit
my needs.
Understand,
I professionally form words
On my
fingers,
And for
those whose eyes
Spend
the day listening to them,
My
shirt becomes the page
Those
words are printed on.
Ah,
something in white
With horizontal
blue stripes
And a
scarlet margin running down the left side;
Clever,
I’ll admit,
And if
I had a graphite complexion,
It’d be
the interpreting answer to Vera Wang.
However,
my handmade words
Are
Caucasian-colored
And
easy to lose on a backdrop
Of
light fabric,
Like
light-colored text that vanishes
In a
lemon-tinted PowerPoint slide.
Pastels
won’t do,
But on
a canvas of black,
Brown,
dark violet, or navy,
Pale,
pinkish words
Can be
seen without strain.
Solid
tones only, please:
Wide
swathes of skin-contrasting color
Unbroken
by stripes,
Patterns,
logos,
Or
overly-showy buttons.
This
plaid, for example, is far too busy –
I’d
rather resemble a blackboard
Than a
magic-eye puzzle.
Of
course,
Color’s
not my only concern;
A
laundry list of further limitations
Will
crop up when I finally hit
The
fitting room.
Take
care
That
the neckline doesn’t bleed
Too far
down the page –
Flesh
against flesh
Is
murder to read.
Not too
tight across the chest –
Sentences
written on the air
Require
a full range of motion,
And
kamikaze flying buttons
Pose a
safety hazard.
Careful
that the sleeves
Don’t
hang too low or loose –
Acrobatically-spelling
fingers
Are
liable to get tangled up
In an
ostentatious cuff.
See
that the waist reaches down far enough –
Certain
words call for
A
somewhat higher elevation,
And I’d
prefer not to bare my midriff
Whenever
such subjects come up.
I guess
what I’m really looking for
Is an
ensemble that combines
The
pizzazz of a ninja
With
the flair of a monk
And the
chicness of a makeup-free mime.
Could
you kindly point me
Toward
that department?
…Ah; I
thought not.
No,
it’s quite all right – I’ll soldier on by myself.
I’m used
to forging my own wardrobe.
So I’ll
sift through your spring-color collection,
Panning
for the glimpses of charcoal or chocolate
Or, if
I’m being especially adventurous,
Deep
burgundy, that make the stage
On
which my fingers dance
With
semantic gymnastics,
And
listening eyes can catch
The
turn of every word.
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