I dress slowly and carefully.
I hate to rush on those days.
I pull my socks up with care,
Sprinkle some powder on my body,
A little aftershave.
It’s almost a ritual now.
I look at the black pants
And step into them.
As I do, things change.
I become what I am about to do.

I put on the stiff shirt,
Loving the elegance,
At least for that day.
Then the vest and tie.
I usually have a little trouble
With these and the cuff links.
The cuff links remind me that
I am alone.
How strange that fingers so skilled
And virtuosic would fumble
With these cuff links.
I wish there were someone
Who could help.

The jacket comes last.
Then I am ready.
I always think the
Same thing when I
leave my house:
I think
The next time I walk through
The door, I will have done it.
But several times I’ve been wrong.
I had forgotten something and
Had to rush back.

I always try to plan enough
Time, but it seems that I
Never do.
I would like a little more time
To get ready before walking out.

I have gratitude for the people who have
Come to hear me.
I feel
Love for them.
I am no longer afraid.