August 17, 2010

ruffle

Yesterday, riding the train downtown, I thought to myself: You should

have worn the boots today, done something with your hair,

taken the prettier coat, maybe, or put on pants that better express a mood

of professional aplomb. I realized, bobbling in the underground car

next to tight-jawed man squinting at headlines on his handheld,

that I spend so little time and fuss feigning much of a maturity,

grabbing limp shoes bunched in the foyer or the first shirt felled

from a slippery hanger. The women in their slimming suits have me

by a mile. No matter. I prefer some ruffle to my feather.

Inside, the world still keeps itself together.