A man gets dressed, and the act feels like a ritual. The black suit with its white lining suggests mourning or formality, with something lighter hidden inside, as if the speaker is guarding a private brightness under a grim exterior. Then the poem makes a strange leap: he goes out "like a bad city / of whatever comes." The speaker seems to turn into a place, a restless, unruly one, open to every chance event and omen the day might bring.
The last two lines shift the tone. Whatever comes is "so convenient to bargain on," and the road is "so free." There is a hint of irony here, since bargaining on the unknown is a gamble. Still, the mood feels more daring than gloomy. The poem balances dread and freedom, mourning clothes and open road, and leaves us unsure whether the omen is good or bad. That uncertainty is the point: the speaker walks out anyway, ready for anything.