THE ARMOR

They look crusty and stiff to you, yeah.  I guess that's how they'd feel on some skin that saw showers more'n once a month.  And I don't get enough money to be takin' these over to any laundromat.  But they're my armor, without these coveralls I think I'd have died a long time ago.  Yes, a long, long time ago.  See, these things were eighty bucks three years back.  And I'm still wearin' them today.  They keep me goin' through the winter so long as I get one of them free blankets when the shelter van comes around.  And they keep me safe in the summer.  That one time I got jumped by a tweaker with a busted bottle, he came a-swingin' at me but the coveralls; that glass just grazed right off 'em.  Jus' right off.  Yeah, they're stained somethin' fierce.  But I'm not dinin' with the President anytime soon, so a couple stains don' matter much to me.  And yeah, they've been tore up a little bit.  But I can sew, and I have a little bit of heavy-duty thread put aside for just such an occasion.  I could say I'm pretty handy with a needle.  I shouldn't say that, because bein' handy with the needle is why these coveralls is all I got.