Sometimes you are a coat
too tight in the back.
I’m trying you on for certain weather;
hanging you up and wearing you out,
I take you on.
You are a cloak somedays
and I am mysterious,
hiding under your collar.
Or you are leather and I gleam.
Usually, you’re a warm wool itchiness:
shoulders stuffed, bent lapel.
Matchbooks slip through the holes in your pockets
and [...]
