designer jeans

how much were those jeans,
I ask
betty
as she picks them up off
the floor, there is
an enormous hole in them
from where
my dog has chewed and nibbled
the entire night.
I look at the dog
who has denim in his teeth.
he's gnawing on
a silver button.
they were two hundred
and thirty five
dollars, she says.
what?
you're kidding, they're
just jeans.
designer jeans from Italy,
she says, putting them on.
her silky black underwear
sticks out the back.
you'd better go straight
home, I tell her.
that hole is pretty big.
is a check okay?