Trying on a new skin

I went to this little boutique in Montreal to try on some new skin. In the Le Plateau section – on Rue Saint Viateur known as a Vintage shop for those looking for the unique

Nothing was overpriced – nothing to hipster

My new skin needs to be stylish and retro, not over chic’

I was ok with a little wear, mine had its own battle scares

Perhaps, something less predictable to the intense gaze of a serious onlooker

I have become too transparent for so long to so many people

I am no longer real, I am pre-conceived, the mystery is gone

Expectations are set in place, they’ve left no room for the absurd only the constant

I’ve no patience to be compared to just a single me

As I have aged, my shape has changed

This skin is to tight and there is no more fabric to let out, belt holes to expand - collars to loosen

To my surprise there is much selection, others forfeiting their skin to consignment or sale

Most things I try itch to the bone

Look distorted in the mirror like the fun house at the weekend carnival

Metamorphosis is hard

Shape shifting takes a commitment that may not be in my DNA

The clerk brings me more offerings complete with Resume’.

The fit needs to be just so

Outside the dressing room, my skin hangs on a hook

There is much interest for it, customers and on-lookers touching it's texture with admiration, they remark on the condition and inquire about its price

A good deal for its next owner

Love needs a heart

I thank the clerk and leave in my own skin

Somethings cannot be offered up to the next in line holding the the ticket number high above the crowd at the deli counter