The Staples

I've got a suit that I wear, to weddings, job interviews, and funerals. The pockets are filled with party favors, directions, and prayer cards. Lay each year's calendar on top of one another, watch the framework construct barebones. I wear the same pair of shoes, to walk towards good news or bad news, or just walk and walk, waiting for either. With poise or fear, my exit or salutation. The cantor will sing the same words to different tunes and we will hum along, and it will shake our teeth loose, and leave our jaws numb. I've got the same set of stories, with the same set of outcomes, just told with different inflections. I'll crack jokes in other voices when I can't find my own. File away excuses for regret on a shelf that has a shelf life of it's own.