big town blues (i)
my grey is a coat

i’ve been acting the stuff
for thirty year
it’s an effective role
it satisfies my personality’s underwear

but the shirt’s been unhappy for decades
all that evidence of breakfast

and there’s no style in it
the oil
as manly as proof of machinery is

so i’m wondering
is it worth the stress
of a year’s disjointing habit
to break the typecast
give myself a dozen styles
more masks of cloth and act

i could do camp
the antithesis of gruff
i can do english bland
i fancy effete

but really
i need to address the base
my skin wears the style of my age
my teeth are grave

i need more than strain remover
more than high fidelity superwash

my strength is grey age
a tool for spinning wisdom
immense immaturity
a portrait of experience

my grey is a coat
of many eyes





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