The Norwegian Sweater

I remember a time when I was young and hearty—

and never cold, so that we

ripped the radiator out of the room in order to get

two and half more feet of living space

I was given thick wool sweaters that I passed on,

gave away to Salvation Army;

they were made for people living on the streets

After having my baby

(thirty years ago) my feet ached

I bought cushiony fleece and suede slippers

from L. L. Bean but hardly wore them;

they made my feet so hot I had to kick them off

in the night

I could not imagine a time when I’d ever be cold

My motor ran fast and high, creating energy

to light up Chicago, or at least my block

I lost more sweaters leaving them on the back of chairs

or castoff in other people’s kitchen, or

forgotten on the sidewalk after loading up the car.

Now

I live in thick wooly sweaters

six months out of a year and

that Norwegian sweater is my mainstay, and

those Bean slippers: I sleep in them

yet still my feet are cold

It sometimes feels like

I will never be warm or

young again

Memoirous