Dressing for the Day

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Dressing for the Day

And digging, I, 
to find the cinching mechanism, sift
through cotton ideologies of yesterdays
grown crinkled with neglect, the ones that stick 
their folded collars
out to ask for, please, just one more chance. 
The way the past can pile, climbing towards
the basket lip, a pair of Costco khaki pants
I yesterday had thought
solution to my nakedness—that was, until 
a splash of workroom decaf taught
(or more reminded) that all 
grows odorous with time. 
So it is with a growing sense of doubt
that I go digging now, a shirtless Stevens' Man 
on the Dump, expecting in my towel, not 
today or any day, 
to don the Tailor-made solution, but 
hopeful nonetheless to find, if way
down deep, the leather belt I need
to hold me up for now.  

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