Chafed and bewildered a reach finally found
this year's gown and hairs falling in the fitting room
it is a ritual each year and the wearable is not
just something picked out of thin air in design.
Sometimes satin, at others - and on that day in the year
no store would have the flawless hatched moron fine
silk that you are after on a whole Saturday alone.
Like a new pet or stray it does eventual arrive
you lie in it and think of me and my last nonsense,
the way the young neighbour asked you for sex
while trying to borrow a spanner to close her water pipe.
Youth teases, explores each pore but stops
when door opened pronounces your stylish manor
heavy as the first wig and both, thick as the first lipstick.
You think of me, and the way I rejected meeting her
that beautiful blond, with yet a cup empty of regrets
a smile bolted shutdown feelings and excited blush
a knock and thoughts about nothing moments before.
Wake happy, at least this once.
Thourn Whaul