Little Blue Number
D Dónall Dempsey
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You choose clothes.
Dash in & out of the changing room.
Becoming a new you
with each quick change.
“Do you like this...? ”
“Do you like me in this...? ”
So many becomings
so many choosings
now you just call
me to the curtains
to get my yea
or nay.
You disappear
into silence, then:
an arm
emerges
like a talking snake.
“Psst...psst! ”
(a fierce whisper) .
“Hand me that...no...that...
little blue thing.”
I do as I am told.
And am brutally pulled in
...the curtains swished closed.
Naked as
sin
you hiss:
“Come quick...make love to me
...now! ”
I do as I am told.
We both try not to
cry out too loud too much.
The curtain trembles.
Later, the till rings
its sale up.
Breathless, you search
for the correct change.
I, red-faced, stand idly by
trying to appear nonchalant.
You buy the little blue number
(even though it doesn’t fit you)
“I just want it
to remember you by! ”
The assistant
saying nothing
Smiles.
Smirks.
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