Jeans of the Disappeared Man - Palette Poetry

Jeans of the Disappeared Man - Palette Poetry

______________________for Jean Paul Long on me, so he must be tall. White speckles orbiting frayed seat pockets make me look like I know labor, like the hammer loop was a choice of function rather than aesthetic. The mashed lint mass of half a dozen grays I pulled out on my first wear felt perfectly intentional, as though rolling detritus into a planet was more craft than happenstance. My mother-in-law found them at his mother’s estate sale, thi…