I wrote a poem about being in clothing stores.

cold tile,
tepid drywall.
legs of plastic
and skirts of fabric.

b r i g h t
l i g h t s
s w i r l i n g
a b o v e

d a r k
f e e l i n g s
s p i r a l i n g
b e l o w

do not tempt me with
mass-produced insecurity
and 95% cotton.