the man inside of me

in my jacket is a saxophone. in
the saxophone is a tidy sum
of feelings.

 

last night i found a man
in my breast-pocket,
he spoke in A-flat
and blew his nose on my sleeve.

 

i said to him "why are you in
my clothes?"

 

to me he said "it just didn't
feel right to be inside of you".

 

"that's ok", i replied,
"i was feeling lonely anyway,
you can keep me company".

 

the next night he was gone.