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Animalwear

I wear
the same old things
until they’re rags
buttonless and stained
misshapen from the strain
of my demands.

In my closet
hundreds of dollars of the newest
nicest things
Still, I reach for greys once white
Embarrassed should I have to
unexpectantly
go outside.

Why do it this way?
In my worn out animalwear
uncombed hair
and disengaged gaze
far removed from another place
where nothing seemed to fit
though it fit—
	a tie a fancy noose
	pleated pants to hide a fattened ass
	that sat too long upon a coward’s thoughts.

There’s the why and here’s to now.
Those clothes, so neatly pressed and stacked
will have their use.
See me in the meantime
and see me not
animalwear is not for all eyes.

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