I Bow to Rags and Laugh to Garments

 

we keep in our closet
unrefined versions of ourselves,
unfinished stories,
forgotten faces,
stamps of time

on a hanger, there is the blue suit
for long meetings,
and for exhausting working hours
worn out around the neck and elbows,
dotted with a stubborn ink spot

ah, and on the other hanger,
there is the green coat with the german cut,
the one you said you can wear to a beer tasting,
or maybe to act a little bit eccentric,
when you felt like it

oh, and I see the chestnut coat
that goes so well with your blond hair,
its pockets we filled with small seashells
and little pebbles on the beach
until it weighed two more pounds

the ghosts of our times are hanging,
motionless specters of ourselves,
I cannot throw those clothes away,
they keep our stories and our plays,
I bow to rags and laugh to garments…

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