PAD 27-2 Remix

My White Skirt

When I was sixteen, Mom gave me

thirty dollars to buy a prom dress.

My boyfriend and I found

a cute cream floor-length skirt

and blue blouse of crinkly material

which came to sixty dollars.

He threw in the extra thirty.

I told Mom I had to spend

all the money she gave me,

not admitting the real cost.

I kept the skirt all these years

hoping someday it would fit again.

It had been out of sight and mind

when my daughter was that size.

Recently, my storage space flooded.

I pictured the skirt moldy and ruined.

I thought it would have been better

if I had given it away long ago.

But, to my surprise, I found the skirt

in great condition, perhaps

not good enough to  give away, though.

I’m shocked at how small the waist is

and don’t have high hopes to fit in it again.

So I’ll store it with some other keepsake clothes.

I told my daughter that if I get sick,

become skinny and die, she can bury me in it.

I no longer have the matching blouse.

Maybe my denim jacket I saved lunch money for

when I was fifteen would look cool.

I wouldn’t care what people thought,

since I’d be dead.