all of the hangers thrown in to the sea
a plane of dresses fades into the dunes.
naked, our friends get less picky.
stiffs in salty suits, we knew the day would come.
all practicality thought organizationally
delegated suitably, beautifully.
before we were stooping, our bone shoulders
and our metal shoulder shadows
no one and nothing could hold up the coats
and it was frustrating, so we summered
down, down, down by the sea
with all of the wire ghosts,
and all of our empty clothes
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