Billy Collins reads

My Jacket Is Polished Gray

My jacket is polished gray
Emblazoned with roses and fire.
I drive some men crazy; others are
merely foolish or they grow quiet.
Who knows why the weak
And the loony hold me up?
But sharp pain comes to those who lift me
Higher than man’s treasure most dear.
Accustomed to their sad pleasure,
They won’t get used to their bitter woe.

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