Plaid Is On Its Way Back

sometimes i’m positive that all the whiskers in the world
couldn’t save me from the revolutions
of the world’s turning, like a selfish lover
with all of the blankets
my toes are slouching toward bethlehem
dancing in dark morning velvet
my wits are sprinting for a paper in the driveway
narrowly avoiding sprinklers and purse dogs
and everyone else is having cigarettes with breakfast
like it’s going to bring the rams back to the coliseum