From the couch.

When she spends half your month's earnings
on that glittering red dress, that's
nothing like what her sisters will wear,
or her friends will wear, a woman's got
am image to keep, you see, and her hair's
instantly long, "extensions, honey!", and curled,
and breakfast is a bowl of fruit and lunch's
a granola bar, for three whole weeks, don't even
say the word dinner, and she's got new red pumps,
too, and a rhinestone bag to match her earrings,
and she wakes up at four, waxes her legs, and her
hands too, and its noon before she puts on that dress,
and pulls her shoes on, and you drive her along,
and you are at the venue, she takes one last look
in the mirror, to adjust that lipstick,and turns
to look at you and asks, "Do I look fat in this dress,
baby?", you shouldn't have said, "Not really!".



This is poem 25 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge 2011. Prompt: "Second thoughts poem". The form is a Narrative poem.