A THEORY OF GETTING DRESSED Poem by Damir Šodan

this morning ( . . . )
put on the wonder-bra
thinking how good it felt to know
that she was herself
and none other than herself.
for instance, a PhD candidate who knows
Templars or Qumran scrolls
inside out, or the cleaning lady
whose twins hardly ever get off their roller skates.
now that I have put that straight
it would be nice if I could only act
accordingly and not just words, words, words . . .
words that have the power to believe in what is not
even inside your head (but it is somewhere close).
and then again it's you alone and the laundry
on the string and this supreme sadness of the wet T-shirts
like standing before some turbid water of I-don't-know-what
gurgling in the mean secretaries' mouths.
and what will you say to this smart girl?
has this woman gone wrong?