at her yellow dress on the floor,
as she sleeps
beside me.
i wonder what went into
it,
her buying such
a pretty dress.
did she try it on, of course
she did.
was there a blue
one just like it,
a pale green
perhaps, many of the same,
on hangars,
all along the rack.
or was this only
one.
did she stand in the mirror
and turn around.
pull at the hem,
toss her hair over her shoulders
as if posing for a picture.
did she think of me
when they
put it in the wrap, carrying
it home
to lay it upon the bed,
removing the tag?
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