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 disjointed habit
break the typecast
give myself a dozen styles
masks of cloth and act

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

but really
i need to face the base
my skin wears the style of génération ancien
my teeth are grave

i need more than strain remover
than high fidelity egowash

my strength is grey
theatre for spinning fauxdom
immense immaturity
portrait of experience

my grey is a coat
of many eyes