transitions

It’s a funny feeling; walking through a formal banquet hall wearing a purple/green/black hoodie, hand-me-down, or rather, pass-across jeans, and sneakers.
The jazz band tunes in, mocking
Ironic that you would to neglect form
They have no sympathy for your amorphous garb
A trifle, your vain attempts at respect whispering, white cord noose
4-years dangle from your freshly tapered neck
As suits and skirts “ahem” your passing

There is no shame with eating desert first.
A sample of tirami-sue me if you disagree
While you sway from that tree
Honored by the thought of one day obliging the sentiment
Of tightening the lady’s eye binds
While you slip an ounce or two more onto your plate
Tip
Scales in your favor
For once may the scales tip in your favor
May the bough on which you cling by your
Honor may it break into a maelstrom of hale
And spit
And sweat
And tears
And blood
And grit
And bile
And rock-a-bye to these suits and skirts
With their two-button up-turned noses
And there knee length ¾ split lip pursed
As if your hoodie, jeans, and sneakers bring shame to the cord that hangs them

Jazz band understands
I know, for my sneakers have been taken in by it
Nurtured and reared into lock step
My neck seems somewhat less burdened by strain of the cord
The jazz band exorcised the tree
My head, weak from the effort, bobs in kind

Confidence, once a drip, is now a trickle
It won’t last for ever so enjoy it
And no suit with it’s narrow, tailor cut lapel
Will say that my hoodie cheapens the pin that adorns it
No crisp cotton blend white shirt will usurp my colorful flannel
Allow me to sneak in a few more minutes of comfort from these sneakers


I’ll grow up tomorrow