I don’t remember a time when the pockets we’re torn inside
when I reached down to find the end of a seam
Not frayed, cheap polyester
That broke open to fill my circumference with knick-knacks and neededs.
This is why
Why my frame shook with ice cold
Back against the friend’s truckbed
Their shapes huddled under blankets,
Laughing beside me without shame
So I fix my eyes on the clear, brilliant blanket of stars,
Watching for a meteor,
Trying to deaden my heart
In a truckbed of canoodling
And my keys are in the lining
all the way to my back,
metal digging into my ass.
If I die this way, of frostbite tonight, I’ll kill myself.
What doesn’t live in this coat of mine?
“You’re always rattling,” my mother says with a smile,
as I reflexively grab the mints in my pocket,
remembering I put them there for you
Or at least your possibility
But I never opened them,
you kissed me even with my morning bile breath,
even with this I wrap myself back up in my black coat and scarf and I’m ready to go,
but you throw me back like I weigh nothing, and you keep kissing me in this coat,
promising we’re going right….now.
And now my rattling coat belongs to you.