Dressed for the Party

Excerpt

Your ruffled shirt is what I noticed first

at your mom’s birthday party. We conversed,

and you were quite the gentleman, to flirt

harmlessly with your mother’s friend, alert

the bartender to fill my glass. You nursed

your ginger ale, decanted wine, dispersed

the waiters with one gesture, and, well-versed

at being host, you served us all dessert

in your ruffled shirt.

The boy in you, though, teased, snuck up and burst

balloons and laughed. Your brown eyes held your thirst

for fun, for dares, for playing in the dirt;

skinned knees; bruised heart; and other kinds of hurt

to come—your only shield against the worst

your ruffled shirt.