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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.




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