Little Yellow Spot

My long-sleeved Oxford cloth, pressed, cotton,
button-down collar, light blue dress shirt
Has a little yellow spot.
It’s spice stain from mussels in curry
with French bread dipped and sauce dripped.
I ate very carefully in the upscale restaurant
in Portland Maine’s converted textile factory
with an urbanized view of the Fore River once dammed
to drive the spinning and weaving machinery,
operated by lower class, underpaid young women,
new immigrants, long before Me Too.
All gone now, gone overseas to other farm girls
now living in New Delhi or Keqiao,
Oxford cloth made in places where coriander cumin
and turmeric are not exotics
and yellow drip spots don’t show on old fat men’s
brightly colored tunics.

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