“Unraveling the Secrets of Identity: Gareth Culshaw’s Poignant Ode to the Hoodie”
Feet unwary, as if they
belonged to someone
else.
His eyes were metal detectors
looking for pennies
his hands ached to pick up
fag ends.
People gingerly watched
like he was walking a tight
rope.
Fingernails held last week.
Tongue soaked in yeast.
Pockets empty of tomorrow.
He just walked with his face
in a plastic cage, keeping
the world away, in case
they saw who he was
