|Posted on July 15, 2011 at 5:19 AM|
You are what you wear, Sutcliffe said,
You wear what you are. O’Brien laughed.
In that case, Eddie, you’re well alive,
Because you wouldn’t be seen dead
In those clothes. Sutcliffe brushed off
The jacket, disturbing the dandruff,
Loose blonde hairs took flight about him.
They’re hand me downs, Sutcliffe moaned,
Not what I’d have chosen by a long chalk.
When money’s scarce, you wear what
You’re given. Dead man’s cloth to be sure,
Dan Davies added, look at the lapels.
You could plant a rosebush in that flower
Hole there. My mother said, it fits well enough,
Sutcliffe said. It fits where it touches,
O’Brien held, laughter in the tone of voice.
And the trousers have fallen out with
The socks, going by the distance between
Them, Dan Davies joked. Sutcliffe gestured
With his digit raised skyward. You are what
You are, O’Brien stated, you wear what is
At hand or takes your fancy or will pull
The girls into your arms. Eddie’s cloth will
Draw the moth or frighten away the crows
Wearing those clothes, Dan Davies said.
O’Brien laughed again. Sutcliffe sighed.
He smelt the jacket. Scent of death.
Something thereabouts had died.