every time it hit 6
and the shutters went down
the shirt would come off
and he’d be up the stairs like a murderer
quicker than the elevator taking the rest of us
up
his father used to walk by the shop on match days
grinning like a friend with old teeth
we put the shop together
until christmas was over
but we’re still employed by it all
everyone’s different hunger
more delicate
than the clothes we sold.