In the speaker's eyes in "Ode to My Suit," a threadbare old suit has become a loyal partner. Without its daily presence, he'd be unable to write poetry, because to write poetry he needs to be able to leave the house, meet people, and have adventures. But the suit transforms even further; he starts to see it as a body that covers his own, is filled by his own, and that takes on the struggles and joys of his own life. Sometimes it reminds him of his soul, even if he'd rather forget it. In the end, it even dies with him, and they go into the earth together. As he ponders it all, the speaker realizes that it is his thinking that has changed, not the suit. Talk about transformation.
The suit and the speaker become "one" at the end. That's because they both live and die together.
Anything can transform into something special if you consider it long enough. That's the power of poetry, Shmoopers.
The speaker of "Ode to My Suit" imagines various death scenarios as he considers his suit. Will the two be shot by an enemy in a sudden spark of violence? Will he instead wear his suit into old age, dying slowly of illness? Whatever the method, pondering his suit has him pondering spending eternity buried in it. It's safe to say that death is on his mind.
Neruda calls one type of death "simple" and another "dramatic." This points to his views on death by violence.
It's easier to think about death if you imagine having a companion. Re-examining the suit allows Neruda to consider death in a less scary way.
For Neruda, anything could be the stuff poetry is made of—like a suit. It was his aim to reconsider common items and find in them some poetry that anyone could read and enjoy. Art and culture was for the masses, he thought, not just for the elite. So as he ponders the suit he wears daily, he realizes that, without these rituals of waking up, showering, and getting dressed, he'd be unable to go out and meet the people that inspire his art in the first place. He'd also be unable to experience the events and struggles that shape his him and make him a poet, just as his body shapes the suit and makes it something worthy of poetry.
Neruda misses his universal mark a bit with this ode. Think about it: a suit? He's leaving out women, as well as anyone who may not be able to afford nice threads.
Neruda's choice of subject matter is a deliberate way for him to signal his beliefs about how poetry should be accessible.