The last suit in the closet
The last one that fits
With bleach splatter pattens
And holes in the armpits
Every string frayed
Every edge ripped
Every loom line showing
Just where it was stitched
I’ve got too many books
So I don’t don’t read anything
I’ve got too many movies
So I don’t watch a single one
I’ve got too much information
But no knowledge to flaunt
I’ve got too many options
But not the one I want
The last tie on the rack
The last one to lose its shine
With remnants of a pattern
And deep Windsor lines
Every fiber faded
Every weave undone
Every red power lie
Exposed and gone
I’m in the heart of the city
So I don’t go anywhere
I’m surrounded by bars
So I stay home with my liquor
There’s a crowd outside
So I don’t talk to anyone
I’ve got too many options
But not the one I want
“every red power lie”
What a play! Brilliant poetry, Drew. No matter what decision we’re facing, there’s usually either not enough options, or too many options. In either case, there’s rarely an option that appeals to us, one that rises above the rest as preferable. That’s what makes this so easy to relate to, imo.
Isn’t it funny how that works? When faced with more choices than we need we simply don’t decide?
I was going to post a picture of a grocery store aisle to drive the theme home, but I thought that might distract from the undercurrent of loneliness. So this is my first piece in a long while with no visuals.
Thanks for reading, commenting, and getting it.