AT 310 ROSEMONT

And to the shop we go!
My daughters and my mate.
They rifle through the clothes
While I obambulate.

The patterns on the shelves
Alarm the eyes, but then
They're soothed by the pastels.
And that's just for the men!

The garb my girls regard
Say wow, but now methinks
My avant isn't garde.
My truck says Ford, not Brinks.

We leave, our prizes bagged.
Tonight we'll have new looks!
Raiment in place of rags!
So long to Brothers Brooks.

-- Steve Stinson