the thoughts are never capable
so the clothes are always too tight
with short lived pauses of too big
once they have stretched out of shape

the unemployed summer has passed
the moths and their stealthy summer nights
live on
every sweater has three holes in the exact same places

life is never where you want it to be
as you live it wearing chewed up old sweaters

well that's misspent for you
sewing them holes up with the wrong color thread
waving hello to what ever is left
something about embarrassment no longer being a deterrent