Every day I accent the same flawless imperfections of my own personal style

A ten-dollar ring from a gift shop in Gulf Shores

A black leather, metal studded bracelet from the same shop

A hair tie, to always remind me of her

Two wristbands on the left, six on the right

“EDM ALL DAY” and “INDY 500” on the left

On the right, “ARMY STRONG”, “GO KEYDETS!!”, “OUTRUN THE SUN”, and “BEAT CANCER”, joined by duplicate copies of the left

Brandless silver shirt, black undershirt, sweat always staining the same spots

The same pair of worn jeans and a leather belt, again, worn

“ARMY STRONG” keychain clip hooked onto my front-right belt loop

A Poké Ball on the chain, next to engraved plastic reading “OUTER CORE”

And of course the assorted keys – home, car, motorcycle

More leather in my left pocket – this time in the form of a wallet

A mind-numbing, life consuming device known as a cell phone in my right pocket

Black socks on a good day, white socks when it’s apparent that I don’t care

Flat-bottom skate shoes, donned with dirt over the white edges

Without all my flawless imperfections, all I am is a poem,

Written with a rhyming dictionary,

Filled with clichés and attempts to impress

Authenticity isn’t always pretty, but at least it’s genuine.