By: Lynn White

What shall I be,
soldier, sailor,
clown, maybe.
Grey suit, or blue,
tailored jacket, short skirt.
Hippie, maybe.
Now there’s a uniform!
Everyone different,
not conforming.

But, wearing the same
signs,
the signifiers,
of non conformity.
The badges
that identify those
waving the flag,
or burning it.

Beads and bangles,
shell suits, jeans,
leggings, jeggings, posh frocks,
taking us to our comfort zone,
Finding for us the warmth we crave.
A part or apart.

Perhaps we are all figments
as made up and tailored as the
uniform we choose.
Even when we change,
it’s hard
not to
choose a uniform.