Today I bought five tee-shirts
in five colors for ten dollars:
forest green, and navy blue,
and charcoal gray – dark brown
and purple, too – projected stabs –
preemptive strikes – imagining
that, wearing them, I might be
able to pretend I was invisibly
in German fairy tales at night:
fading into shades of shadows
in the woods: mysteries sustained:
antidotes to having entertained
too long the fallacy of thinking
what you see is what you get –
taking surfaces too blatantly –
as if the sunlight could tell all.
(Though calendars say I’m
in early Spring, my Soul is always
in late fall.) And so, for five days
running, starting now, I will assume
the tints and hues that correspond
to views that burrow, dig and plow.
You'll see me first in forest green.
That is if, in the camouflage
of wearing it, I can be seen.