The answer’s not in unisex perfume, not hanging in the sleeves of an ankle-length lambskin coat, not in satin blazers, team colors, or firing the eyes of a rattlesnake tattoo. Sweat and bark all day, do your reps, you still can’t buy it in a gym, learn it on a bass or fiddle, shade it through a pair of Raybans. All industry earns you is embarrassment. It’s nothing to do with fashion or attitude, a cashmere scarf from Uruguay, adoring the mirror above your bed, shaken or stirred or learning French. Forget James Dean stroking a cigarette. Dying’s only a fraction of it, but more than stripped abs, a hot trigger, and daddy’s four-wheel-drive. You’ll catch a glimpse of the real thing only once, maybe, when I swagger by in a scowl and baggy shorts, head shaved and gut proud, aces and jokers tumbling from every pocket. Don’t try to follow the trail, child, my woods get dark. Go to the clubhouse and enjoy the rest of your little life. Truth’s for suckers. As for cool, we have what the gods imparted. To you, none. Gaylord Brewer is Associate Professor at Middle Tennessee State University where he founded and edits Poems & Plays. “The World Etiquette of Cool” was written during a recent residency at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Ireland. His latest books of poetry are Four Nails (Snail’s Pace, 2001) and Barbaric Mercies, forthcoming from Red Hen Press in 2002.