the pocks on my sleeved shoulders give me away.
cheap hangers and many months in the closet cannot be disguised.
neither can the joy on my face, nor its lack of glisten on the short walk down market street.
the breeze blows in through the south window, forceful as the fall it carries. we unplug the ac unit and hope it’s the last time she’s needed.
the wardrobe and weather take a turn for the welcome, and i feel like i could just keep falling.