Undressed

I can't give in
you know?
Even though it draws my gaze
ever so poetically
to the window.

To invest the sparsely collected earnings
from my tired errand
on a dress so fiercely pinned to the mannequin
would unravel my eyes
and there is no seamstress left
to reward my hem with a thimble.

I tried to tear it free once
twice
maybe more
but all I succeeded in doing
was misshape a garment that was lovely
before my greed
and leave my heart-stain
spattered between the two of us.

In the dressing room
one beautiful autumn evening
I slipped in on
felt it collect in my folds
as if the fabric were I,
but I never got to take it home.

I suppose there was a theft I could have made
but we know
all us women know
the mirror is tweaked towards flattery
and the lighting is complimentary.
The living room mirror
is the true test...
that dance we do before it
for however long it takes to know
the dress fits like a glove.

I effort now
towards a circuitous route
that takes me past the dairy, the laundromat
the Rexall, and the 5&Dime.
But every now and then
I wind up on Third Avenue
my breath against the glass of that dress.