As she disappears to the back of the store,
he beats a path to the coffee shop next door.
In the silence of the dressing room,
her reflection taunts her.
Can you imagine your dump-truck
butt in that tiny thing?
It is really cute, though.
I suppose you could enlist a personal trainer,
maybe get deal-a-meal. A bikini-wax is in order,
and you really should do something about those
spider veins: sclerotherapy or laser treatment?
Who am I kidding? I don’t even
have the courage to try it on!
She leaves the swimsuit hanging and finds
her husband waiting, just as she had instructed.
He asks, “Did you find anything?”
She shakes her head.
“Nah, too expensive.”
I wrote this last year in answer to a challenge to write a poem using the following words:
dump-truck, deal, courage, path, personal, instruction, silence, coffee, spider, wax