Sherman In Love With Textiles

They came to arrest us
To force a sort of peace on us
To send us outside their self contained illusion

To distract the naked man with colourful clothing
Threads that make him forget his threadbare life
His name was Sherman and he wished there was more to himself than that

They raided the place where we finally broke through with insight
The sight of our triumph, the sight of our suicide
They showed up quickly to muffle the joyous sounds our hearts were making

To make him fall in love with the cover and not the contents
That keeps him focused on the wrapping but not the present underneath
His name was Sherman and he was only dimly aware of the big gulf between the limited outfit of want and the shabby, baggy hobosuit that he kept in a dirty backpack
That's hung in a closet in a squatter's bungalow

by Raj Dronamraju

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