The Yellow Finally Worked
I found tomorrow folded inside an old coat pocket— it came in a package from British Columbia. I'm trying to buy more Canadian. I didn't even bother to take the box apart before trying it on ... And keeping it on the whole day. A striped blazer, vintage. Shoulder pads that meant business in a fabric that didn't. Linen. Cotton. Light as a good idea. I don't usually wear yellow, but this one worked. I'm in my colour era. I checked the right pocket. Nothing. The left — a small white slip. Folded once. The kind that comes with the cookie. Tomorrow is already looking for you. I laughed out loud in my living room, still wearing the blazer, the open box at my feet. Of course it did. I put the slip in my jeans pocket and carried it around for the rest of the day.


Wow, extraordinary light as a brilliant idea. I stopped right there and just smiled. The whole poem is a small, perfect thing. A vintage blazer, shoulder pads that meant business in a fabric that didn't, yellow finally working, and then the fortune slip in the left pocket. Tomorrow is already looking for you. Of course it is. Of course it was in there waiting.
The detail of keeping the blazer on all day, the open box at your feet, the slip folded into your jeans pocket and carried around. That is what it looks like when joy arrives quietly and you decide to stay inside it. This is the kind of poem that makes you want to check all your coat pockets.
What makes you extraordinary is the range. Grief for a six year old, the biology of heartbreak, institutional soap, and then this, a fortune slip in a vintage blazer. Every single one lands with the same precision and honesty. You never reach. You just look closely at whatever is in front of you and find the whole world in it. MashaAllāh, my friend. This one is pure delight. 🥰🫶🏻✨️🔥🌹💛
This is so fun, I love your mind!