Life to the Nines
I am envious of other people,
they wear this life so well.
Ironed collars, crisp creases, the sepal
of a rose pinned to a jacket that tells
that they live life to the nines.
Pockets filled with more than dimes.
They wear this life so well,
cufflinks coordinating with watches of gold.
My outfit shows that happiness is a hard sell.
Shoes need polish and resoled.
I throw my shirt into the dryer
to remove the wrinkles I’ve acquired.
Ironed collars, crisp creases, the sepal
of a flower, are not part of my look.
Time and fate, fashion that makes me feeble
in other’s eyes. I keep my eyes down like a crook
not wanting to catch them scrutinizing
my plastic watch. I feel despair rising,
of a rose pinned to a jacket that tells
me my attempts at a full Windsor knot
will always be crooked. My outfit repels
any illusion that I am one that has got
a credit line at the Men’s Warehouse.
My pockets are empty when I leave the house.
That they live life to the nines,
is clear in the way they hold their shoulders.
Strong, as they step with shoes that shine.
A smile that fits in Vegas, a high roller.
I can not deny that my heart craves
such a sharp clean shave,
pockets filled with more than dimes.
I find a pair of socks with no holes.
Select khaki pants with no crease lines.
My schoolboy knot looks controlled.
I step out the front door to a new dawn,
knowing kings never come from pawns.
Poetic Form #61: Trenta-Sei
The trenta-sei form was created by the poet John Ciardi. The form has
