'I'll make you one,' he said, 'and balance it
Perfectly on you.' So I could almost feel
The plumb line of the creased tweed hit my heel,
My shoulders like a spar or arms of a scale
Under the jacket, my whole shape realigned
In ways that suited me down to the ground.
So although a suit was the last thing that I needed
I weighed his words and wore them and decided
There and then it was going for a song.
