WITH HIS HAND
he brushed down the front
of his shirt,
smoothing out wrinkles, straightening himself out.
Pants stopped
just at the top of his
dress shoes,
dress shoes tied
in perfect bows,
leather shiny,
uncreased
like he ain’t been walking.
Brushed and brushed down his chest
to stomach, down his thighs,
then squatting,
dipped a finger in
his mouth and scrubbed
the toe of his shoe,
a smudge not there.