The Costume Shop

A costume shop has a distinct smell. 

The costumes hang in rows, with cheap fabric, mocking me.

God knows where they've been.

I try on a hat, or two or three.

I look at the outfits, the genie, the cowboy, the native, the milkmaid.

I appreciate the heavy, three-way mirror near the dressing rooms,

waiting for someone to truly see themselves.