sometimes I am woolly turtleneck,
              khaki slacks and leather shoes
          black jacket loosely around my shoulders in the autumn morning
  waiting for the day to begin while the day passes by

  sometimes I am yoga pants and hooded sweaters
      ballerina flats worn from usage
              shoulder bag slung the wrong way
         a fantasy world before me, and mulling through my veins

                        sometimes I am violet gowned
                   silver toed and clutch in hand
                        a face on a face, a drink for the evening’s delights
                wishing I was home, missing my better half

         but mostly, I am the sparrow on my wrist,
             the compass on my shoulder, the milky way
                   always pointing north
ad astra per aspera

           I am long hair and small freckles,
              graying eyes and crooked smile
        a hum in my throat, that ever resting bitch face
                    I swear I’m not mad, don’t mind the turned down –
            I am the feeling of worry, the anxious stare at the road
                  the relaxed smile when leaves fall
              the flop of the blankets on the bed when it’s cold

        and sometimes
               I am a writer.