Different from the Rest
Hanging on the wooden coat rack
with the fuzzy scarves and hats to match.
I wonder every morning if this time
she will pick me,
a bright purple leather jacket
with green polka dots
to wear over her pretty blouse.
This “pick me” game is played daily,
but I am never the winner—
the plain black jacket is always chosen
to umbrella her from the changing weather outside.
As years pass and spring cleaning comes around
I have finally been picked off the dusty rack.
But instead of being worn
I am placed in a cardboard box
and sent away.
Where I will never have the chance
to be picked