Different from the Rest

Hanging on the wooden coat rack

with the fuzzy scarves and hats to match.

I wonder every morning if this time

she will pick me,

a bright purple leather jacket

with green polka dots

to wear over her pretty blouse.

This “pick me” game is played daily,

but I am never the winner—

the plain black jacket is always chosen

to umbrella her from the changing weather outside.

As years pass and spring cleaning comes around

I have finally been picked off the dusty rack.

But instead of being worn

I am placed in a cardboard box

and sent away.

Where I will never have the chance

to be picked

by her.