audition

once, to make you laugh,
I had you imagine me
wearing navy blue, matte finish
pumps;
proving to both of us
that there is little that
I won't do to hear that laughter;

and you sent me that photo,
of you being
so professional,
standing at the head of the classroom,
every eye in there
fixed on you and your lesson,
while I daydreamed
as usual
and focused instead
on your boots
and that flippy skirt --
two layers, light and fun --
and wondered
if you straight-ironed
your hair,
and if I was seeing just a hint
of purple eyeshadow;

and just to see
how much farther I would go
past the sensible shoes
to win you,
you asked me to write you this poem;

and gentleman that I strive to be,
I waited for nearly a day
to let this poem go out there,
so that you would not be reading it now
while still intoxicated with Theraflu;

I sure hope that I pass this audition.


April 2, 2009, for Kimberly.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.