I paw through the table of give away
coats. One cloth number tempts me
to smile. insisting as it does on polished
pews and woolen pedigrees. I’m trying
to reject fur, a.k.a. dead animal skins,
but already in October, it’s getting colder.
I end up taking a sable—Big and bulky,
it smells of camphor and sweat, and promises
agony before it’s over, but will keep me warm
in my cardboard box under the overpass.
— Lyn Coffin
Free to republish but please credit the People's Tribune. Visit us at www.peoplestribune.org, email peoplestribune@gmail.com
The People’s Tribune brings you articles written by individuals or organizations, along with our own reporting. Bylined articles reflect the views of the authors. Unsigned articles reflect the views of the editorial board. Please credit the source when sharing: ©2024 peoplestribune.org. Please donate to help us keep bringing you voices of the movement. Click here. We’re all volunteer, no paid staff.
Copyright © 2022 People's Tribune
