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The Jacket by Jade Blackmore July 29, 2014

Posted by vscorpiozine in Uncategorized.
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The Jacket

It wasn’t a Versace or a Blass
in the coat check room at the Palm.
It was just a fleece-lined jacket
hanging on a hook on an office door.
A glimpse of it on your back as you walked to
the elevator alone.
My first thought of you–
“No, don’t go. Don’t go.”
I’m buried underneath it,
a wide-eyed Keane kid,
a Little Rascal playing dress up
in a sun-streaked hallway.
I smooth the lining over my face,
feel the warmth of your finely-stubbled skin,
smell your cologne as it fades.
Italian lights taunt me from the windowsill.
I fit the winter-worn brown suede into the
curve of my naked waist
instead of a blanket.
In the obscenity of daylight,
I stand with clipboard and staple-tinged cuticles,
and all I see hanging from the office door
is the scarf you left behind.

 

Copyright 1990, 2008 Jade Blackmore from  the poetry e-book Parking Lots Remind Me of You

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