Wardrobe

Impressive though it is, your rubber suit
Will not replace your pair of woollen slacks,
That shirt with pictures on it of attacks
By otters, and the big hat topped with fruit.
By all accounts, your underwear is cute,
Embroidered in dark colours, blues and blacks,
And yes, your socks are special, stocked in stacks
On dressing tables by the laundry chute.

Your daily wardrobe might be thought of as
A tribute to this business we call "show"
If we were all stoned, or a little slow,
And overwhelmed by hours of toneless jazz,
Afflicted by the dream one sometimes has,
The thought that wishing something makes it so.