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Shane Koyczan & The Short Story Long
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Weather Reports
Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long
Don't ask a guy what to wear.
It's not that we don't care, it's just that in most cases you could hold up a dress and a sweater, then ask us which one is better;
we will always say, 'naked'.
That morning I slid out from behind the joke. 'Take a coat', I said.
It was freezing that morning,
and the ice storm warning gave me cause to be concerned about your safety.
I still find it funny how when I love you can be reduced to a weather report.
I sort through the memories of that day, and I'm comforted by the fact that you used to say:
'affection is in the details.'
So I said, 'wear that tuk',
the one that doesn't fit you quite right.
The one that makes you look like beauty is something you can put aside for a moment that lasts just long enough it lets you handcuff your makeup to the bathroom mirror,
let you leave your eyeshadow behind.
Let you find your way back to me, because today I need you quicker than lipstick will allow.
I need you like this second is going to run out any minute, and it's already starting to feel like half-past now.
'Wear your mittens', I said.
The ones you thought were red even though they were actually orange.
It's just that you were colorblind,
and I didn't have the heart to remind you,
because they were your favorite.
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I loved the fact that on most days you looked like a patchwork quilt,
guilt-free and warm.
You looked like authority on all things lovely, and I've always had a thing for a girl in uniform.
That winter you left me snow-blind trying to find enough details that would let you know that even though some people have perfect sight,
those same people could try to paint you by numbers and they still wouldn't get you right.
You were Monet number two and Van Gogh number 6,
a mix tape of Hendrix and Leibowitz portraits.
It makes no sense to me that we were ever together.
And my makeshift weather reports were the closest I ever came to telling you how I felt.
But you were a lover of the miniscule,
you dealt best with details.
Weighing our relationship on scales you balanced us out, and always made me feel needed.
You always asked me what to wear,
and I would stare at you as if for a second I wouldn't answer.
Of course, I always did.
Hid my affections, and my response:
'wear that smile' I said.
That one you wear when you see me.
That one you wear to bed.
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