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Noah Falck



DENIM ON DENIM ON DENIM

You wore camouflage today because you wanted to be noticed—Chuck Cleaver

 


The wind is half awake, half rumbling through
the peninsula of evening. Here you eye the denim
jeans stacked like postcards sent from Wyoming.

And here is the denim t-shirt you found
at Valley Thrift where you wandered the aisles
for hours reeking of dollar menu French fries.

Now the denim jacket, buttoned or unbuttoned,
it doesn't matter—you are all denim.
You wear denim on denim on denim.

Near the VHS section you say out loud,
"I am a plateau of high fashion." The stale air
presses gently against your button

fly. You feel groomed with suspense,
and begin walking swiftly away—
away from the cassette tapes, from the river,

away from the job, the love of your life.
You were all denim on denim on denim
beneath a small town sky.

And later when your eyelids shut for sleep
denim seeped into your dreams. It nested
in a silence of style and you must have known this,

inside the dream, when you stepped onto the dance floor
and all the lights sprayed fuzzy patches of denim
across the dancing denim bodies.


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Noah Falck's Best Poetry Books of 2011 selections