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that worn blue-grey sweatshirt
you wear around your waist
over your shorts which are
over your trousers which are
tucked into your gumboots
which are filled with your
thick warm socks which are …
but I digress.
That sweatshirt –
I have never seen your arms
in those sleeves. I have never
seen your head poking through the neck.
I have never seen the emblem on
the front (if there is one).
I have only seen those empty arms
wrapped around your body over
the shorts/over the trousers as
I walk behind you/behind you
and your shorts and your trousers
and your sweatshirt in your
gumboots which walk you into
the bush down to the river into
that other part of your life which,
like your sweatshirt, belongs to
somewhere else, some other people.