Man Drag

She stops me, geisha graciously.

Five minutes - that is all -
a picture maybe,
for a magazine,
for men, she says,
an article on how you dress.

“So why,” she asks,
“The suit, the shoes, the scarf, the glasses?”

Because, I think, I’m in disguise,
the grey, the brown, the olive, navy blue,
the moleskin, suede, the fleece,
designer glasses, hair cut boyishly,
the silver ear rings, one to right and two to left,
the open neck of one of fifteen shirts
(each cotton, white, its collar cut away)
its doubled cuffs both fastened with a silver stud,
my nails varnished matt and short-cut,
breasts pressed close to chest –

Enough.

I smile.

“Because,” I say,
“I dress for comfort.”