The ask was an outward form of their deeper yearning.
“What do you do?” they asked him at the bar that cold night.
He saw their eyes were on his thick cashmere clothing,
An embroidered coat with mink fur collar that hugged him tight.
The wrap was a display of confidence and elegance,
An attempt to fit into the ever-morphing world,
The world that fueled his desires to outpace themselves,
And offered a terse nod, a fleeting applause for his conquests.
He slowly undid the buttons adorned with precious stones,
Raised hands up in the air and swiftly brought them down.
The suffocating fabric slithered slowly down his back
In a silky motion freeing him from his own prison.
He tossed the jacket on the nearby empty chair
As the warmth of the fireplace and chill of the outside air
Swept softly over his thin white shirt caressing his heart,
And goosebumps popped and hair on his arms stood up taut.
His eyes turned away from the choking memories of his victories,
And into their awestruck eyes he looked directly and intently
As the weight on his inner light lifted ever so gently, completely.
“I do what I am born to do!” he then declared emphatically.
He turned around, his form plain without his gaudy coat,
And creaked open the heavy oak door and walked out.
They followed him in the cold breeze towards the awakening dawn,
Their hearts open, minds calm and their coats left behind.