House Hunting

a different folded down
masculinity: ironed or plastic 

blue work shirt
or Norfolk tweed 

turn the key to
brown velvet coats 

grow blue business ledgers
from the throat 

taste cologne in the stomach
Brooks Brothers three piece suits 

gray or brown or silver
scratched on with a smile 

where I grew up
in high apartments 

diamond pane windows
were sewn into fibered turtle necks

old stone cottages
weren’t anything personal 

Do you carry copies of books?
Then my body is yours 

British fur lined gloves
Burberry raincoat 

half hidden fancy
cashmere sweaters 

I touched something hot

old fashioned and upside down
your face: a Porsche 

I’ll scribble inside your cover:
you are a brand new mansion 

I don’t buy.

This is a found poem. Text from Rice, Anne. Exit to Eden. New York: Harper Collins, 1985. Print. Pages 188-195.