Not As Costumed, But As Costume

There are so many little worlds
That we could share with each other,
And it’s not that we don’t come close
When trading facts and anecdotes,

It’s just that we never get there,
Except in memoirs or onstage,
To where someone shares the whole years
They’ve lived as someone else hasn’t,

Like lifting an old uniform,
A winter coat, a wedding dress,
Solemnly, out of a cupboard
And handing it over, folded,

Here’s the whole thing, surprisingly
Heavy, isn’t it? I wore it.