Wardrobe

Check short distance reading glasses clearly,

The collar that points out seen from unseen,

The cuffs that click smartly into routine,

The belt that counts weight, or very nearly.

Check shirt and synched tie with matching building,

The new suit that’s my way or the highway,

The watch that murmurs thank God it’s Friday,

The overcoat black outlines, no gilding.

Check the pants that walk the briefcase walk,

The well-tied shoes that glide to one’s station,

Socks where Christmas comes but once a year.

Check laptop that untaps both hope and fear,

The headphones that wall out close relations,

The umbrella at bus-stops where no-one talks.