We went to the thrift store
And saw the most magnificent dress,
Black and tight
Hitting you at mid thigh.
See-through sleeves snaked down to your wrists.
It was on sale,
Only $21.
So later I snuck back without you
And bought it
Because I wanted to take you for dessert
At your favorite restaurant.
You ate so slowly,
Sipping at espresso
Even though it was already 8:30.
But I was tapping my foot
Rapidly against your stiletto toes,
Because the only reason
I had dug $21 dollars out of my pockets
Was to see you come home
Slightly giddy from our late night snack,
Watch you peel off those lacy sleeves,
Slide your way out of that dress,
Sit on the edge of my bed
And complain to me about your aching feet.
That way I can shake my head
And hand you a ratty T-shirt
Promoting a dinner long foreclosed,
And you’ll slip your toes and bare legs
Under my pile of blankets.
You’ll wrap yourself around me
Just so you can fall asleep.
In the middle of the night
You’ll wake up to tell me to turn the heater off,
Turn out the light,
And just go to bed already.
That was the image I wanted to see
When I bought you a dress
Overly revealing.
Maggie Bowyer is a poet and is very passionate about her work. She loves New York City because art thrives throughout the bustling streets. She wants to go to NYU to pursue her career in teaching English and Creative Writing. “Prinworks Bistro” has been previously published in Blooming Scribes.