The suit persona has false power
with a political understanding of a stark environment.
The moment the suit jacket is buttoned,
the smile fades into white walls with no windows.
The clutter of emails-- click, clack, click, clack.
The keys sound like tap dancers
on a road march.
Wearing the suit is unnatural, and steals the inner beauty
of a creative soul.
The sweatpant persona is relaxed like the track pants
and tanks free of bras and restriction.
A natural beauty with limited amounts of make up and
free-flowing, disheveled hair.
The stress of the day is now gone--
the best part of the day is when you arrive.
When we can lounge in sweatpants together and drink wine--
the restrictions of the suit unravel.
The vision of you, sitting on the counter in Adidas gear and a headband
echoes the bliss of sweatpants.
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