costumes

walking into the costume closet

deciding which poet to become 

anything is possible

a little girl having tea with dolls

an eagle or a hawk in the sky

donning the clown suit as a fool

as a jester

or the garb of a priest

or the habit of a nun

maybe a killer with a knife

a gun or a bomb

depending on the plan and

the form of escape

perhaps a bartender

exhausted at last call

a mechanic, a hostess

an attorney, a judge

a politician (no thanks)

or the single mom of five

or the deadbeat dad on the run

or the mistress he’s running with

man becomes woman

woman becomes man

human becomes animal

becomes deity

becomes constellation

right now i light a fire

easing back on a log

in the middle of nowhere

i’ve chosen the torn boots

of a backwoodsman and

not to be a poet tonight

instead i’m spending time 

with my friends the stars

and the surrounding wildlife

tomorrow

i’ll add to these boots

a backpack and

a trekking pole

i’ll want to travel

(Image by Peter Philbrick - hoospedro on trekearth.com)