Zoot Suit

For my eighth birthday, I wanted a zoot suit, whatever that was. Sounded sharp, crisp, all snazzy creases and fat stripes, a fast set of clothes that rhymed with Skloot. No toys. No games. Nothing else would do. Yes, I would be away at summer camp and not need a suit. Yes, a Sunday trip to Ebbets Field to see the Dodgers play two against the Giants had been on my list. But that was before I heard about zoot suits. Just saying the words aloud was good, and I would laugh to myself as I wished for two, maybe three, red and blue and green. They sounded like they were already mine.