This poem was originally published on 9 August 2016.

Wash the dirty remarks,
Scrub the lather of the spite,
Shave the coarse bits off,
Not turning a single hair.

Dress up in bright colours,
Without throwing any shade,
Make it up as you go,
With improvised flair.

Save as much face as flurry,
Grace the cold with some warmth,
Be soft with the sharp,
And tender with the tough.

Shake the dust with a hand,
Straighten the creases you may wear,
Throw noses off the scent,
When they are smacking for snuff.

Maybe I’ll catch a whiff,
Of your indigo cologne,
And float on over,
Hanging on for dear life.

For my well-smoky lungs,
Stuck in claustrophobic daydreams,
Starve for something fresh;
Maybe your air can clear my pipes.