Evening Gowns

Evening dances and pretty dresses,
Romance glittered with pink, silver tresses,
Their cheap fabrics shall not touch you,
I won’t let you drown in their glares.

Love has a place, an impermanent address,
It shifts and slips through pockets of time,
Now here, when we got the punch together,
Next I can see when we get into the car.

The moment after, when you kiss me,
Love will reside for a tiny bit,
The hour later when we sit on wet grass,
Our silver dresses staining.

The morning after when the egg is brown,
When burnt toast is all we find,
Love will leave behind pieces of its fingers,
Around our plates, where we shall linger.

She will loop around words in the air,
When I whisper through crowds,
That I miss you, that you miss me,
She will leave her laughter behind.

These silver tresses are the poor man’s dream,
These evening gowns their fairytale beginnings,
You are more than all that can be woven,
You are the reason love pauses and sings.

These evening dances are our compulsion,
Your skin on my lips as we sway to nothing,
Their gowns shan’t touch us, nay they flutter away,
All naked and consumed, we shall remain.