I’ve fallen in love with a dress.
it is green like the best anyone finds
in the produce aisle of a grocery store
diligently kept and locally adored.
but like most other things
worn with infatuation,
the piece needs a pair of safety pins
I rarely succeed in finding.
it could be a towel
on days when I forget laundry.
or, it could be a rag
when mops don’t do the trick.
but as I’ve said, I love this dress
and I’m talking about it like an afterthought
which is really, quite silly
like entering bridal stores after a breakup.
maybe, as I stand
flat-footed before the mirror,
it should be more apparent
that the dress may not love me.