“Maybe today is more suited to a mélange.”

Mornings. In Verse.

“So, what kind of day is it today?”

Is it an argyle day? A foppish sort of kind of morning –

I’m double-breasted
Hard-bottomed
Ascotted…

Meh.

Maybe today is more suited to a mélange.
The sky doesn’t know what to do with itself.
“Wintry mix.”
The weatherwoman is not convincing.

Solid red works to get ahead.
(So says my former boss in publishing… I never liked him.)

And then there’s cashmere – when the world is cold and rigid and I want to tuck myself into something so outrageously soft…

But there’s a massive hole in the heel – Naturally.

Maybe today is of the classic white tube variety.
“Can you really improve on such an iconic piece of design?” [I marvel to myself as I examine it in the light.]
Magnificent ribs.

So many:
Polka dots,
Stripes and
Critter’s heads

And even more:
Birdseyes,
Geometric shapes,
And peds.

My hands are sifting rather quickly now. I’m sweating. I’m late. I’m wired.

And it won’t matter what damn pair of socks I’m wearing

If I end up getting fired.