F I T | I N – rooms

Summer was nearly over and I’d tuned my pocketbook
To advertisements of Buy One, Get One Free
To the buy low, sell high, mark it higher game

With a dozen outfits they went in only to exit with one
Over and over and over again
Changing, changing and in the end the same

One last twirl, one last look in the mirror, one last moment
They fix their hair, tuck in their shirts and grab their remains
For the turnstile, the exchange of energy for image

Silent on the way home all of us listening, watching someone
Their projected image, the exchange of our energy
The highway turnstile follows, followed, following

We step onto the sidewalk and straighten our clothes
My pocketbook is lighter and our arms are heavy
Carrying images purchased on the highest low

We are none changed by the changing rooms