red stars

there was the time
you were madly infatuated
with a woman.
hard to believe,
but it's true.
you put on a brand
new white button
down starched white
shirt and went out
to eat Italian food.
by the end of the night
with fork and spoon
spinning as you talked
her ears off with
your impressive
knowledge of a variety
of topics, you had
a constellation, no
a galaxy of red dots
all over the front
of your shirt.
she liked you because
of that, not anything
else.