A Pale Blue Dress
I can't believe that I thought I knew
she was smart, as smart as I pictured her
putting the shining wash on a white line
watering the plants, sprinkling the chickens
in a pale blue dress with no underwear --
come to bed at night with only a sexy moan.
OK. Erase that likeness. She was plenty smart.
Proud house plants wilted under the stress
and the chickens all one day fled for the trees.
The underwear was wrapped three times around.
OK. She was smart enough to hide her feelings.
She sprinkled me enough that I climbed away
while I believed she was smart. OK. Not that.
I believed I was smart to know when a blue dress
looks like it should come off it sometimes doesn't.
Hiding my feelings about that makes me smart.
Scotch that. It makes me almost smart enough
to read a pale blue dress, so well, so well.
© 2010 Rob Schackne